GIFT  OF 


BILL'S  MISTAKE 
A  STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS 


BY 


ROBERT  GALE  BARSON 


BILL'S  MISTAKE 


A  STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS 


BY 


ROBERT  GALE  BARSON 


1921 

HARK  WAGNER  PUBLISHING    CO. 
San  Francisco,  California 


1921 

Copyrighted 
Eobert  Gale  Barson 


TO  THE  REDWOODS 


4G4572 


CONTENTS 

I.     The  Last  Bell 7 

II.     A  Supper  for  Two 23 

III.  Wherein  Bill  Makes  a  Mistake 40 

IV.  Flight  to  the  Eedwoods 53 

V.     At  the  Santa  Cruz  Big  Tree  Grove 61 

VI.  Conversation  Among  Some  Loganberry  Vines  .  72 

VII.     A  Kedwood  Saw-Mill 85 

VIII.     A  Mountain  Vineyard 99 

IX.     A  New  Home 113 

X.     The  Anarchist  Scare       128 

XL     Worse  and  More  of  It 144 

XII.     Some  Explanations 162 

XIII.  Mountain  Guests— Tom,   Dick  and  Harry     .     .  174 

XIV.  The  Anarchist  Again  and  the  Picnic  Party  .     .  185 

XV.  What  Happened  at  the  Cross-roads      ....  201 

XVI.  The  Eeal  Anarchist     .     .     ....     .'  /    .     .  222 

XVII.     Homeward  Bound .-    .    .     .  243 

The  City  Beautiful 255 

Afterward  266 


BILL'S  MISTAKE 


I. 

THE   LAST   BELL. 

Dong !    Dong !    Dong ! 

It  was  a  warm  day  in  early  June;  one  of  those 
days  when  you  just  simply  cannot  stay  in;  a  day 
that  was  never  made  for  a  school-room  or  for 
study;  when  a  dip  in  the  surf  or  a  hike  among  the 
redwoods  would  be  far  more  preferable  than  a 
drowsy  school-room;  a  day  that  meant  you  MUST 
be  out  of  doors.  But  it  was  all  over,  anyway — for 
a  time,  at  least.  The  last  bell  was  ringing.  Vaca 
tion  had  begun  for  the  students  of  the  Santa  Cruz 
High  School. 

Groups  of  boys  and  girls  came  pouring  out  of 
the  doors,  laughing  and  chattering,  with  happy, 
smiling  faces;  only  occasionally  a  long-drawn  face 
appearing  among  them — no  doubt  that  of  some 
child  who  had  failed  to  be  nromoted.  But  they 
were  all  glad  to  be  free  for  a  long  two*  months  to 
come;  all  were  glad  to  pet  out  into  the  beautiful 
summer  day. 


!& ,  >   ' i  i  »> A  l * *'  BILL >s  MISTAKE 

"Cut  that  out  now!"  cried  one  of  three  boys, 
who  came  tumbling  rather  than  walking  down  the 
stairs,  each  eag^r  to  reach  the  ground  first.  The 
boy  who  spoke  was  in  the  lead,  and  the  other  two 
were  holding  him,  trying  to  prevent  him  from 
reaching  the  ground  first.  As  he  spoke  he  turned 
and  gave  his  tormentors  each  a  punch. 

"You  don't  need  to  think  you've  always  got  to 
be  first,  Tom!"  one  of  the  other  boys  answered 
sharply,  after  he  finally  succeeded  in  reaching  the 
ground  first. 

"I'm  NOT  always  first,  but  when  I  make  up  my 
mind  to  do  a  thing,  I  usually  do  it,"  Tom  replied 
decidedly. 

"Did  you  get  through,  Tom?"  asked  Jim,  the 
smaller  of  the  other  two  boys.  By  this  time  the 
three  boys  were  standing  in  a  group  on  the  school 
ground. 

"Yes,  I  got  through!"  he  replied,  as  if  there 
wrere  no  doubt  about  his  being  promoted. 

"Only  by  a  scratch,  though,"  added  Ned,  the 
third  boy. 

"Well,  ain't  that  enough?  What  more  do  you 
want?" 

"I  got  through  all  right,"  Jim  said,  happily. 
He  was  a  class  below  the  other  two  boys;  he  had 
two  years  yet  before  him,  while  the  others  had  but 
one. 

Ned  and  Jim,  or,  rather,  Edward  and  James 
Nelson,  were  brothers.  They  lived  with  their 
parents  on  the  east  side  of  the  city,  near  the  foot- 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFOKNIA  REDWOODS          11 

hills.  Their  father  was  engaged  in  light  farming 
and  vegetable  raising,  and  his  boys  proved  two 
useful  assistants,  when  they  were  not  busy  with 
school  work. 

"It's  some  warm  today,  isn't  it?"  Ned  re 
marked. 

"You  bet!"  Tom  replied.  "Let's  beat  it  now, 
fellows.  I  want  to  go  down  and  take  a  swim  in 
the  surf.  It'll  feel  good  a  day  like  this.  Want 
t'  come  along?" 

"I'm  afraid  we  can't,"  Ned  answered  disappoint 
edly,  as  the  three  started  to  leave  the  school 
grounds.  "Father  told  us  to  hurry  home  after 
school;  he  wants  us  to  do  some  weeding." 

"All  right,  I'll  go  alone  then."  As  long  as  Tom 
got  there  that  was  the  main  thing  with  him. 

"Where's  Bill?"  Jim  inquired,  looking  around. 
"Ain't  you  going  to  wait  for  him?" 

"He's  gone  on,"  Tom  said  quickly.  "He's  got  to 
get  down  to  the  store  and  work.  No  foolin'  for 
Bill." 

So  the  boys  went  down  the  steps  and,  turning, 
continued  down  the  hill  on  their  homeward  way. 

Tom,  or  as  he  was  sometimes  called,  Thomas 
Lawrence,  was  a  small  boy  for  his  age — perhaps 
seventeen  —  and  fat  —  not  excessively,  but  just 
enough  so  that  it  could  not  help  but  be  noticed.  He 
had  dark  brown  hair,  almost  black,  dark  eyes — eyes 
that  sparkled  with  mischief,  but  whether  they  were 
dark  brown  or  black  it  was  hard  to  determine. 


la  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

Tom  had  a  round,  fat,  handsome  face  —  always 
beaming.  Always?  Nearly  always  would  be 
nearer  the  truth,  for  Tom  had  a  quick  temper, 
and  when  he  became  angry  his  face  was  verj 
different  from  the  usual  smiling  face. 

At  that  time  Tom  had  the  reputation  of  being 
the  worst  boy  on  the  school  ground  to  get  intc 
fights.  When  things  went  wrong,  he  simply  HAD 
to  let  himself  out  some  way;  so  his  fat  fists  began 
flying,  and  the  boy  who  happened  to  be  nearest 
usually  received  the  benefit  of  his  wrath.  Then, 
ten  minutes  after  the  fight  was  over,  Tom,  or  no 
body  else,  could  believe  that  Tom  ever  got  into 
such  trouble ;  his  face  would  be  beaming  again.  If 
any  one  spoke  of  the  fight  a  short  time  afterward, 
he  would  say,  "Did  I?"  as  though  he  had  for 
gotten  entirely  about  it. 

Whatever  Tom  did  though  that  was  not  just 
right,  it  was  not  because  he  was  a  bad  boy ;  it  was 
just  simply  because  he  could  not  help  it.  He 
would  always  ,say,  after  such  happenings,  "I 
didn't  mean  to,"  and  that  seemed  to  make  every- 
thing  all  right,  as  far  as  Tom  was  concerned. 

Tom,  like  all  other  boys,  liked  to  have  a  good 
time.  When  he  did  not  have  to  attend  school  it 
would  be  hunting,  fishing,  swimming,  or  boating; 
and  the  games,  too,  whether  it  was  base-ball,  foot 
ball,  tennis,  or  others,  Tom  dearly  loved  them  all. 
There  was  one  other  game  that  Tom  loved — cards. 
He  also  liked  to  run  races;  Tom's  legs  were  short, 
but  when  they  got  a  good  start  they  certainly 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS         13 

could  go;  and  such  that  few  boys  on  the  school 
ground  could  outrun  him. 

Tom  was  bright  and  he  was  quick,  whether  it 
was  in  the  games  or  in  the  classes ;  for  busy  as 
he  was,  he  often  found  time  to  study;  something 
the  teacher  just  insisted  upon  having  him  do,  he 
would  settle  down  and  prepare  as  good  as  any 
body.  The  result  would  be  that  Tom's  teacher 
would  say,  "Thomas,  that's  just  fine!"  But  it  was 
not  very  often  that  any  teacher  of  Tom's  had  occa 
sion  to  make  such  a  remark.  Tom  preferred  to 
fool  rather  than  study.  But,  nevertheless,  he 
always  managed  to  get  promoted. 

Everybody  liked  Tom.  The  boys  and  girls  liked 
him  because  he  was  "funny"  and  always  saying 
things  that  made  them  laugh. 

There  was  one  other  thing  about  Tom  that  must 
be  mentioned  to  make  his  description  complete: 
he  was  an  awful  boy  to  ,swear.  Several  times  the 
principal  had  to  call  him  aside  and  severely  repri 
mand  him  for  the  bad  language  he  used  on  the 
school  ground. 

Thomas  Lawrence  was  an  orphan;  his  parents 
died  when  he  was  little  more  than  a  baby ;  he  could 
scarcely  remember  them.  His  mother  died  first 
and  the  father  soon  followed.  After  the  death  of 
his  parents,  Tom  came  to  live  with  his  aunt — his 
mother's  sister — in  Santa  Cruz,  where  he  had 
entered  school  in  the  primary  class. 

The  boy  had  lived  ever  since  his  arrival  in  Santa 
Cruz  with  his  aunt,  Mrs.  Amy  Rowland,  ii»  her 


14  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

modest  little  home  in  Laurel  Street.  He  loved  her 
as  he  would  have  loved  his  own  mother.  If  he  was 
naughty  toward  her,  it  was  just  because  he  could 
not  help  it;  he  did  not  mean  to. 

Tom  loved  Santa  Cruz.  "It's  the  finest  place  in 
all  the  world, ' '  he  would  say.  ' '  I  want  to  stay  here 
always. ' ' 

When  the  boy  grew  older,  an  uncle  of  his — his 
father's  brother,  who  lived  in  San  Francisco — 
wanted  Tom  to  come  and  live  with  him;  but  Tom 
just  would  not  go.  "I  can  look  out  for  myself ;  and 
besides  if  I  went  Aunt  Amy  would  be  left  alone, " 
he  had  said  when  his  uncle  had  urged  him  to  go  to 
the  city  and  live  with  him. 

"Well,  his  uncle  had  replied,  "if  I  hear  no  bad 
reports,  you  can  stay  with  Aunt  Amy  in  Santa 
Cruz.  But  remember!  I  am  your  guardian,  and  if 
I  say  'Come,'  you  will  have  to  do  it;  so  you  had 
better  be  a  good  boy." 

Tom  always  remembered  it,  too.  It  was  the  one 
thing  above  all  others  that  helped  to  keep  him  on 
the  straight  and  narrow  path — at  least,  as  near  on 
it  as  he  could  keep.  But  then  Tom  was  not  a  bad 
boy  at  all;  if  he  did  naughty  things,  he  had  a  very 
good  reason  for  so  doing ;  he  just  simply  could  not 
help  it.  Tom  always  wanted  to  do  what  was  right. 

When  Tom's  father  died  he  left  his  child  a  little 
property;  arranging  it  ,so  that  the  boy  would  have 
so  much  a  month,  until  he  would  be  of  age;  then 
if  anything  was  left,  Tom  would  have  it  for  his 
own.  Tom's  uncle  was  his  guardian  and  sent  him 


STOKY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS          15 

the  monthly  allowance,  part  of  which  he  gave  his 
aunt  for  his  support;  the  remainder  he  had  for 
himself.  It  was  not  near  enough,  though,  for  his 
modest  requirements ;  he  was  always  running  short. 

The  trio  of  boys  continued  down  the  hill,  among 
dozens  of  others. 

"I'm  goin'  fishin'  Monday,"  Tom  remarked,  as 
he  threw  his  cap  into  the  air,  and  tried  to  catch 
it  on  his  head  as  it  came  down.  "Can't  you 
fellows  go  along?" 

"I'm  afraid  we  can't,"  Jim  replied  softly.  "We 
will  have  to  work  nearly  all  vacation  if  we  expect 
to  earn  our  bicycles." 

"I  shall  have  to  go  alone  then.  Bill  can't  go; 
he  always  has  to  work.  I'm  glad  I  don't  have  to 
work." 

"I  always  feel  sorry  for  Bill,"  Ned  said  thought 
fully,  "the  way  he  has  to  work,  and  with  no  father 
or  mother  to  help  him.  He  seems  to  do  pretty  well 
though." 

"Bill's  all  right,"  Tom  answered.  "He's  the 
finest  fellow  in  all  the  world."  The  boy  was  then 
walking  backwards  in  front  of  the  other  two,  be 
cause  he  often  said  that  it  was  easier  for  him  to 
walk  backwards  than  forwards.  Just  as  he  was 
about  to  cross  the  railroad  track  at  the  foot  of  the 
hill,  he  stumbled,  and  would  have  fallen  if  Ned 
had  not  grabbed  him  by  the  arm  to  .steady  him. 

"Look  out,  Tom!"  he  said  warningly.  "You'll 
hurt  yourself  some  day  doing  that." 

"Don't   worry   about  me!     I   can   look   out  for 


16  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

myself,"  he  replied  bravely,  as  he  righted  himself, 
also  turning  to  continue  ''right-side-to"  the  rest  of 
the  way. 

"Hold  on,  fellers."  Some  one  was  calling  from 
the  rear.  The  boys  looked  around.  A  tall,  long- 
legged  boy  was  running  toward  them,  down  the 
hill,  as  fast  as  his  long  legs  could  carry  hirr 

"It's  Bill!"  Tom  uttered,  rather  surprised. 

"What's  your  hurry?"  Bill  asked  as  he  at  length 
joined  the  group.  "I  was  waiting  for  you  in  t"he 
school  yard." 

"Thought  you'd  gone  on,"  Tom  replied  courte 
ously.  "You'll  be  late  to  work." 

"Oh,  no,  Tom,  we're  out  early  today;  don't  you 
know  that?"  asked  the  newcomer,  almost  out  of 
breath. 

"Early?  It  seems  later  to  me  than  usual.  I 
thought  school  never  would  end  today.  It's  too 
nice  to  be  in  school  any  way." 

The  boys  continued  their  walk  four  abreast. 

"Yes;  I'm  glad  to  be  out  for  a  while  though,  for 
one,"  Jim  said. 

"And  just  think,  Bill,"  Ned  added  joyfully.  "In 
one  more  year  we'll  be  through  for  good.  What 
would  you  like  to  be,  Bill,  when  you  get  settled 
in  life?  I've  often  thought  I'd  like  to  be  a 
lawyer. ' ' 

"I  don't  know,"  Bill  replied  slowly.  "I  never 
think  about  the  future  much;  the  present  is  enough 
for  me  to  handle,  just  now.  I'll  wait  and  see  what 
turns  up." 


STOKY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS          17 

"I'd  rather  be  a  banker,"  Tom  edged  in.  He 
had  not  been  asked  to  give  his  opinion,  but  he  was 
doing  so  anyhow.  "Bankers  have  more  money  than 
anybody;  all  they  have  to  do  is  to  go  to  the  bank 
and  get  what  money  they  want  and  go  off  and 
spend  it.  I  tell  you  it's  a  BANK  for  me." 

"You've  got  an  uncle  that's  connected  with  a 
bank,  haven't  you?'  Ned  asked.  "Maybe  he  could 
get  you  a  job  in  the  bank  when  you  get  through 
school." 

"I  don't  want  any  job.  If  I  can't  own  the  bank 
I  don't  want  anything  to  do  with  it." 

"If  you  owned  a  bank  would  you  give  me  a 
job?"  Bill  asked  of  Tom.  "I'd  rather  have  a  job 
in  a  bank  than  to  own  one." 

' '  You  bet  I  would, ' '  he  answered  truthfully.  "  I  'd 
do  anything  in  the  world  for  you,  Bill,  old  man." 

"Thanks,  Tom!" 

Thus  the  four  boys  continued  down  Walnut 
Avenue,  laughing  and  talking,  first  about  one  thing, 
then  about  another.  They  were  happy. 

Bill,  or  to  be  exact,  William  Crawford,  was  a 
tall,  strong,  healthy-looking  specimen,  the  kind 
of  a  boy  that  develops  into  the  large,  well-pro 
portioned  man.  He  had  a  fine  face — not  a  hand 
some  face,  but  a  face  that  showed  character.  To 
look  at  him  one  could  not  help  but  notice  the 
honest  integrity  that  showed  out  plain  in  the 
boyish  face.  One  look  at  the  youth  would  be 
enough  for  any  one  to  know  that  he  was  an  honest, 
well-meaning  boy— a  boy  that  could  be  trusted. 


18  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

Bill  had  brown  hair — chestnut  brown,  slightly 
curly,  and  brown,  bright-looking  eyes.  His  skin 
was  tanned  from  much  outdoor  life,  and  his  hands 
were  rough  from  hard  work;  for  work  and  Bill 
were  twin  brothers. 

Bill  was  a  youth  whom  everybody  liked  and 
admired.  He  always  did  his  best,  whether  it 
was  work  or  play — for  he  liked  to  work,  and  he 
liked  to  play.  He  was  not  a  shirk;  when  there 
was  work  to  be  done,  he  was  ready  to  do  it.  His 
motto  was  "work  first  and  play  afterwards." 

Bill  was  unfortunate;  his  parents  both  having 
died,  he  was  left  alone  in  the  world  without  an 
adviser — without  a  supporter.  He  had  to  earn  his 
own  living  as  well  as  attend  school;  this  meant 
work  before  school,  after  school,  Saturdays  and 
vacations.  He  had  little  time  for  pleasure;  but  he 
did  not  complain.  Bill  had  made  up  his  mind  long 
before  that  he  would  do  the  best  he  could  for 
himself;  and  he  would  have  to  be  satisfied  with 
that.  In  the  ischool-room  he  did  his  best;  it  was 
nothing  extra,  for  he  had  little  time  to  study,  but 
such  as  it  was  was  far  better  than  that  of  many 
others  who  had  far  greater  opportunities. 

Bill  was  of  a  quiet  nature;  he  seldom  spoke 
except  when  he  had  something  important  to  say — 
and  if  so,  he  said  it ;  otherwise  he  believed  in  keep 
ing  still.  This  was  one  reason  why  Tom  liked 
Bill  so  well.  He  liked  a  good  listener;  then,  what 
ever  talking  was  necessary  Tom  could  always  do 
that  himself.  Bill  was  also  good-natured.  This 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS          19 

was  another  reason  why  Tom  and  he  got  along 
so  well  together.  Bill  was  always  willing  to  give 
in  and  let  Tom  have  his  own  way. 

Bill  had  not  lived  in  Santa  Cruz  long;  he 
arrived  the  summer  previous  and  had  spent  only 
the  past  year  in  the  high  school.  It  was  not  his 
entrance  year  though,  for  that  he  had  spent  in 
his  home  town  in  Ohio.  One  year  more  and  he 
would  graduate — if  everything  went  well.  Then 
perhaps  he  would  be  able  to  do  better  for  himself. 

William  Crawford  was  born  in  Warren,  Ohio, 
where  he  spent  his  childhood  with  his  parents.  His 
father  was  a  dissolute  man,  giving  little  thought  to 
the  .support  of  his  wife  and  son;  he  reveled  in 
drink  and  card  playing  until  he  became  nothing 
but  a  wreck  and  a  burden  to  the  woman  he  had 
promised  to  do  so  much  for;  and  then  after  a 
time — like  all  others  of  his  kind — he  passed  away, 
leaving  his  wife  and  child  alone,  to  make  their 
way  through  life  the  best  they  could.  Bill  scarcely 
remembered  his  father. 

His  mother,  one  of  the  finest  of  women,  always 
did  her  best  for  her  boy.  Hard  as  it  was  both  to 
earn  the  living  and  keep  up  the  home,  she  suc 
ceeded  in  making  a  happy,  though  humble,  home 
for  herself  and  boy,  and  sent  the  lad  to  school. 
Her  greatest  hope  was  that  her  son  would  grow 
up  to  be  a  good  man. 

As  Bill  grew  older  he  began  to  help  his  mother 
earn  their  living.  He  became  a  newsboy;  early 
in  the  mornings  and  late  in  the  evenings,  he  was 


20  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

out  doing  the  best  he  could  to  help  with  his  sup 
port.  He  did  his  studying  whenever  he  could  find 
a  few  spare  moments. 

All  went  well  for  some  years;  the  mother  and 
son  were  very  happy  together.  But  just  when  the 
mother  wanted  to  live  most,  for  her  boy's  sake; 
just  when  ,she  felt  that  he  most  needed  her  to 
watch  over  him,  she  sickened,  and  in  a  few  weeks 
was  gone. 

When  she  felt  that  she  must  go,  that  there  was 
no  help  for  her,  she  called  her  boy  to  her  bedside 
and  in  her  dying  hour  sobbed  these  words:  "Oh, 
my  boy !  Promise  your  dying  mother  that  you  will 
always  be  a  good  boy;  always  do  your  best. 
Promise  me !  Oh,  promise  me,  that  you  will  never 
touch  any  liquor,  or  never  play  with  cards.  They 
were  what  caused  your,  father's  downfall.  Oh, 
promise  me!"  And  he  promised. 

After  his  mother  had  been  laid  to  rest  beside  his 
father,  Bill  took  what  little  money  there  was  left 
and  bought  a  ticket  for  San  Francisco.  His  only 
living  relative,  a  brother  of  his  father,  lived  there, 
and  his  mother  had  bidden  him  to  go  to  his  uncle. 

"Perhaps  he  will  give  you  a  home  and  help  you 
till  you  are  a  little  older,"  were  among  the  last 
words  of  the  dying  mother. 

The  unfortunate  youth  reached  San  Francisco 
safely  and  found  his  uncle  living  in  a  handsome 
home  on  Pacific  Avenue,  where  he  had  every  luxury 
and  convenience  that  money  could  produce.  But 
it  only  took  Bill  a  few  days  to  find  out  that  he  was 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS          21 

an  unwelcome  guest;  the  help  that  he  hoped  to 
receive  was  not  there.  Rather  than  live  in  a 
home  where  he  felt  that  he  was  not  wranted,  the 
disappointed  boy  thought  it  better  to  strike  out 
for  himself.  He  had  always  worked — and  worked 
hard — was  strong  and  healthy,  and  he  knew  that 
he  would  succeed  by  doing  the  best  he  knew  how. 
Being  used  to  a  small  town  he  thought  it  better 
to  Leave  the  city;  besides  he  felt  that  his  expenses 
would  be  less  in  a  smaller  city. 

So,  after  a  few  days,  he  bid  his  uncle  gooi-bye 
and  left  the  city.  Some  one  told  him  to  go  to 
Santa  Cruz  if  he  wanted  a  smaller  city.  He  came 
here;  liked  it;  and  remained  here.  No  one  \vho 
has  ever  been  in  Santa  Cruz  will  blame  him  for 
his  decision. 

A  few  days  after  his  arrival,  Bill  procured  work 
at  the  H.  H.  Howard  Drug  Company,  on  Pacific 
Avenue,  doing  odd  jobs,  cleaning,  delivering,  and 
whatever  else  he  was  called  upon  to  do.  At  the 
beginning  of  the  fall  semester  he  commenced  his 
studies  at  the  high  school — working  when  hs>  was 
not  in  school.  He  made  his  home  with  Tom  and 
his  aunt. 

At  last  the  group  reached  Pacific  Avenue,  and 
Bill  turned  up  the  avenue  to  go  to  his  place  of 
employment.  As  he  left  them  Tom  called: 

"Don't  forget,  Bill— eight  o'clock,   sharp!" 

"All  right,  Tom!"  Bill  called  back.  "I'll  be 
home  long  before  that." 

Then   the    three    boys   proceeded    on    their    way 


22  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

down  the  main  street  for  half  a  block,  after  which 
the  two  brothers  crossed  over  to  Soquel  Avenue, 
that  thoroughfare  leading  in  the  direction  of  their 
home.  Tom  continued  southward  toward  the  beach. 

Before  parting  he  said  to  the  other  boys:  "I'm 
sorry  you  can't  come  along.  Don't  forget,  though, 
fellows — eight  o'clock,  sharp!" 

"All  right,  Tom,  we'll  be  there,"  Ned  replied. 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  BED  WOODS          23 


II. 

A  SUPPER  FOR  TWO. 

"Do  you  think  this  will  be  enough,  Bill?" 

"No!  That's  not  half  enough,  Tom.  That 
isn't  enough  for  one  of  us.  Remember,  we're  not 
going  to  have  much  else." 

"Then  I'll  fix  some  more,"  Tom  replied  will 
ingly.  He  was  shelling  the  peas  for  supper. 
Bill  had  just  made  the  fire.  That  afternoon  before 
Tom  arrived  home  from  school  his  Aunt  Amy  had 
been  called  away  to  Watsonville.  Her  brother  had 
been  badly  hurt  in  a  runaway;  so  she  hurried 
away  as  quickly  as  possible,  leaving  a  note  for 
Tom  telling  him  of  the  trouble,  and  for  the  boys 
to  get  supper  the  best  they  could.  They  were 
doing  their  best. 

"I'll  peel  some  potatoes  and  put  them  to  boil — 
then,  I  think,  I'll  boil  some  eggs — that  ought  to  be 
enough,"  Bill  remarked  slowly. 

"Can't  you  fix  them  some  other  way,  Bill?  I 
don't  like  boiled  eggs  very  well." 

"How  do  you  want  them?" 

"Scrambled!" 

"I  don't  believe  I  know  how  to  scramble  eggs; 
at  least  I  never  tried.  Shall  I  fry  them?" 


24  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

"All  right,  any  way  that  suits  you;  I  sha'n't 
be  particular  at  a  time  like  this." 

During  this  talk  Tom  slowly  continued  with  his 
pea-shelling  and  Bill  proceeded  to  prepare  the  po 
tatoes,  which  he  at  length  put  on  the  stove  to 
boil. 

"I  think  we'll  eat  here  in  the  kitchen,  so's  not 
to  make  a  mess  in  the  dining-room,"  Bill  said 
thoughtfully,  as  he  took  some  eggs  out  of  the  cup 
board  and  placed  them  on  the  table.  "You're 
making  such  a  mess  here." 

"Am  I?  What  am  I  doing?"  Tom  looked 
around  wonderingly. 

"You're    getting    peas   all    over    everywhere." 

"So  I  am."  The  boy  could  see  what  his  chum 
referred  to  as  he  looked  more  closely  at  the  floor. 
"I  can't  help  it  though,  Bill;  every  time  I  open  a 
pod  they  all  hop  out  and  go  where  they  please. 
There  goes  one  now,  over  there  where  you  are. 
Pick  it  up — if  you  don't  want  them  on  the  floor!" 

Bill  stooped  and  picked  up  the  fugitive  pea, 
came  across  the  room,  and  placed  it  in  the  pan 
with  the  others. 

"There  goes  another!     Get  it,  Bill!" 

"I'm  not  going  to  keep  picking  them  up  as  fast 
as  you  drop  them,"  was  the  decided  reply  as  he 
sat  down  by  his  friend's  side  and  commenced 
helping  writh  the  shelling.  "If  we  don't  hurry 
we  won't  have  them  on  time." 

"Is  this  enough  to  suit  you  now?"  Tom  asked 
a  few  minutes  later.  He  picked  up  the  pan  and 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS          25 

held  it  up  nearer  Bill,  for  his  closer  inspection, 
wiggling  the  pan  enough  to  set  the  peas  rolling 
back  and  forth. 

"Why  not  finish  them,  Tom?  There's  only  about 
a  dozen  left.  The  more  we  do,  the  more  there'll 
be  to  eat." 

"Eight  you  are!  Why  didn't  I  think  of  that 
sooner?"  Tom  resumed  his  pea-shelling  with  re 
newed  vigor.  "You're  dropping  some  yourself, 
Bill,"  he  soon  added,  as  one  of  his  companion's 
peas  went  rolling  over  the  floor.  "There  goes 
another  of  mine — so  I  can't  talk." 

When  at  length,  the  peas  were  all  shelled,  Bill 
took  them  and  prepared  them  for  the  stove. 

"Get  some  knives  and  forks,  Tom,  and  put  them 
on  the  table." 

"Where  shall  I  get  them?" 

"Look  in  the  closet.  You'll  find  them  some 
where,"  he  answered,  while  washing  the  peas. 

Tom  slowly  arose  from  where  he  had  been  sit 
ting,  walked  to  the  closet  and  after  examining  its 
contents  for  a  few  minutes  returned  to  the  table 
with  the  knives  and  forks. 

"See  if  there's  any  bread,"  Bill  directed,  after 
he  had  put  the  peas  on  the  .stove  to  cook. 

Tom  again  slowly  walked  to  the  closet  and 
after  a  moment  spoke:  "Here's  some." 

"Well,  cut  some  and  put  it  on  the  table." 

"What  shall  I  cut  it  with?"  stupidly.  Tom 
certainly  was  not  a  born  house-keeper. 


26  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

"Take  that  bread  knife  lying  there  beside  it  and 
cut  a  few  slices." 

The  other  cut  a  couple  of  chunks  of  bread  and 
then  after  placing  it  on  the  table,  sat  down  in  his 
former  position. 

"I  think  I'll  fry  the  eggs  now,"  Bill  at  length 
said,  as  he  placed  the  frying  pan  on  the  stove. 
"Get  me  two  plates." 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  before  I  sat  down?" 
Tom  muttered  as  he  slowly  arose  and  went  to  the 
closet  and  procured  the  plates,  which  he  carried 
over  to  Bill  as  he  stood  before  the  stove. 

"Put  them  on  the  stove  to  warm,  Tom." 

Tom  did  as  he  was  directed,  and  then  stood 
watching  Bill  as  he  greased  the  pan  and  com 
menced  breaking  the  eggs  into  it. 

"Do  you  want  one  or  two?" 

"Two,"  was  the  decided  reply.  A  moment  later 
he  said:  "Bill,  you  look  like  an  old  woman  with 
that  apron  on."  The  youth  had  tied  one  of  Aunt 
Amy's  aprons  on  to  protect  his  clothing. 

"I  can't  help  it  if  I  do,"  was  the  solemn  reply. 

Then  there  was  silence  for  a  few  moments  as 
the  two  boys  stood  by  the  stove.  Tom  watched  the 
eggs  as  they  sputtered  in  the  grease.  After  they 
were  done  —  to  Bill's  satisfaction  —  he  took  the 
turner  and  proceeded  to  place  two  of  the  eggs  on 
each  plate. 

"If  it  ever  comes  to  the  worst  now,  Bill,  I 
believe  I  could  cook  myself  an  egg,"  Tom  said 
softly  when  his  chum  finally  had  the  eggs  safely 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  KEDWOODS         27 

on  the  plates,  after  which  he  took  the  pot  of  peas 
and  divided  them  as  near  equally  as  possible  on 
the  plates;  he  also  placed  a  potato  for  each.  Then 
the  boys  sat  down  to  eat  their  supper. 

Tom  was  the  first  to  place  a  forkful  of  peas 
in  his  mouth.  ''Bill!'  he  exclaimed.  "I  don't 
believe  these  peas  are  done;  they  don't  taste  just 
right." 

Bill  tasted  tiiem.  "I  forgot  the  salt.  Get  some 
from  the  closet  and  put  it  on.  It'll  do  just  as 
well." 

"That's  the  trouble,  then,  is  it?  I  never  should 
have  thought  of  salt,  myself,  though."  The  lad 
arose,  went  to  the  closet  for  the  salt  and  soon 
returned  with  the  shaker,  which  he  began  shaking 
over  his  peas  immediately  after  sitting  down. 
"This  is  pepper." 

"Well,  get  the  other  one.  We  need  pepper,  too, 
though." 

Tom  again  went  to  the  closet,  returning  with 
the  salt-shaker.  After  he  had  salted  his  peas  to 
his  satisfaction,  he  again  commenced  to  eat. 
"They're  all  right  now,'  he  said,  after  eating  a 
few  forkfuls.  "They're  good,  too!  Things  taste 
better  when  you  fix  'em  yourself,  don't  they, 
Bill?" 

"Yes,  Tom.  That's  always  the  way  in  this 
world.  When  you  have  to  work  for  a  thing  you 
appreciate  it  more." 

"I  believe  you're  right.     It's  so  in  this  case." 

Tom  was  a  poor  worker;  he  knew  nothing  about 


28  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

work,  nor  did  he  want  to  know;  he  was  lazy  and 
worthless  as  far  as  work  was  concerned.  He  liked 
to  play  games  and  go  fishing;  that  was  life  enough 
for  Tom.  The  only  work  he  had  to  do  was  to 
cut  the  lawn  for  his  Aunt  Amy;  and  that  he 
always  left  until  Sunday  so  that  Bill  could  help — 
or  rather  so  that  Bill  could  cut  the  lawn  while 
Tom  talked  to  him.  But  then  Bill  did  not  mind; 
he  liked  to  cut  the  lawn  and  he  liked  to  hear  Tom 
talk ;  and  Tom  liked  to  talk ;  so  they  were  both 
happy. 

Aunt  Amy  had  always  weeded  the  flowers  herself 
because  Tom  did  not  know  which  were  the  weeds 
and  which  the  plants.  One  time  she  set  Tom  to 
work  to  weed  .some  young  pansy  plants  which  she 
had  planted  for  a  border. 

"Now,  Tom,  be  careful!  These  are  the  plants. 
Do  you  see?"  and  his  aunt  showed  him  the  plants. 
"I  have  planted  one  every  six  inches.  Now  be 
careful!  There  are  some  weeds  there  that  look 
something  like  the  pansies.  Do  you  think  you 
know  them?" 

"Yes,  I  think  so;  I'll  fix  'em  all  right,  Aunt 
Amy,"  the  boy  had  willingly  replied. 

And  Tom  did  "fix  'em,"  for  when  his  aunt 
returned  a  little  later  to  see  how  Tom  was  getting 
along,  she  found  only  a  row  of  tiny  weeds — that 
looked  something  like  pansy  plants  —  and  the 
pansies  had  been  carefully  removed.  Of  course 
she  felt  badly. 

"What  have  you  done,  Tom!     You've  removed 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS         29 

all  my  pansies  and  have  left  only  weeds,"  she  said 
disappointedly,  when  she  discovered  his  mistake. 

1  'Have  I?  I  didn't  mean  to,  Aunt  Amy."  The 
boy's  eyes  had  filled  with  tears.  "I  never  could 
see  any  difference  in  them — until  the  flowers  come, 
any  way." 

"Well,  never  mind,  Tom.  It's  all  right.  You 
did  the  best  you  could,"  his  aunt  replied,  when 
she  saw  how  badly  he  felt. 

So  after  this  unfortunate  experience,  Aunt  Amy 
thought  it  best  to  do  her  own  weeding.  It  was 
the  same  with  everything  else  that  .she  had  tried 
to  get  Tom  to  do — he  was  always  bungling;  so  she 
finally  gave  up  hope  of  ever  getting  him  to  do 
anything  useful. 

Tom  was  the  first  to  finish  his  egg,  pea  and 
potato  supper.  He  leaned  back  in  his  chair. 

"Have  you  got  anything  else?  I  haven't  had 
enough  yet,"  he  remarked. 

"There's  some  pie  in  the  closet;  I  guess  we'll 
eat  that.  I'll  get  it  in  a  minute." 

"Take  your  time!  That'll  about  finish  me,  I 
think.  You're  a  good  cook,  Bill.  How  do  you 
know  all  these  things?" 

"I  used  to  help  my  mother,"  he  said  sadly. 
"When  she  was  sick  I  had  to  do  all  the  house 
work  and  care  for  her,  too." 

"You  certainly  are  a  better  cook  than  I.  If 
it  were  left  for  me  to  do,  I'm  afraid  that  we  would 
have  to  eat  things  raw.  I  can  beat  you  in  a  foot 
race  though.  Want  t'  try  after  supper?" 


30  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

"I  thought  you  had  something  else  for  to 
night?"  Bill  reminded,  as  he  got  up  and  went  for 
the  pie. 

"That's  so;  I  nearly  forgot." 

Bill  brought  the  pie  and  placed  a  piece  before 
Tom,  who  immediately  began  to  dispose  of  it;  the 
other  piece  he  put  at  his  own  place  and  after 
sitting  down  began  to  eat  it. 

"Shall  we  cut  the  lawn,  Sunday,  Bill,  or  let  it 
go  another  week?"  Tom  inquired,  with  his  mouth 
full  of  pie. 

"No,  Tom,  not  another  week.  We  must  do  it 
Sunday;  it  should  have  been  done  last  week." 

"But  if  I  am  going  fishing  early  Monday  morn 
ing  I  -shall  have  to  get  my  tackle  ready  Sunday. 
Then  I  shall  have  to  clean  my  gun;  I  might  want 
to  take  it  along,  too." 

"You'll  have  plenty  of  time  for  all,"  was  the 
decided  reply. 

"And  then  we've  planned  for  a  game  Sunday. 
Don't  forget!  Besides,  Aunt  Amy  might  insist  on 
me  going  to  church  like  she  did  last  Sunday.  I 
hope  she  don't  come  until  Monday.  How  are  we 
going  to  do  everything?" 

"It  wouldn't  hurt  you  to  get  up  a  half -hour 
earlier. ' ' 

"I  wouldn't  like  to  do  that.  We'll  hope  Aunt 
Amy  won't  get  back  until  Monday;  that'll  let  us 
out  on  the  church  racket  any  way." 

"But  you  may  get  tired  of  my  cooking  before 
Monday.  Did  you  think  of  that?" 


STOKY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS         31 

"I'm  not  kicking,  yet.  This  supper  has  been 
a  howling  success.  You  are  a  wonder,  Bill."  And 
with  that,  Tom,  having  finished  his  pie,  leaned 
back  in  his  chair. 

"Have  you  had  enough,  Tom?"  the  other  in 
quired,  as  he  finished  his  own  pie. 

"Yep,  I  couldn't  eat  another  bite  if  you  pay 
me.  Say,  Bill ! ' '  Tom  said  suddenly, ' '  have  you  made 
up  your  mind  what  you'll  have  for  breakfast  yet?" 

Bill  was  silent  for  a  few  seconds  while  he  sat 
thinking. 

"Better  make  up  your  mind  to-night!  Then 
you  won't  have  to  think  about  it  all  night." 

"I  think  I'll  make  some  coffee,"  Bill  finally 
remarked  slowly. 

"Yes,  I  must  have  my  coffee.  What  else  will 
you  have?" 

"Then  I  can  fry  some  eggs  and  potatoes.  I  think 
that  ought  to  be  enough." 

"Eggs!"  Tom  echoed.  "Can't  you  think  of 
something  else,  Bill?  I'm  gettin'  tired  of  eggs; 
we've  had  them  every  meal  since  Aunt  Amy  left." 

"There's  some  bacon  in  the  cupboard;  maybe 
we  can  have  some  of  that,  instead." 

"Have  both!  Then  we'll  be  sure  and  have 
enough. ' ' 

So  their  breakfast  was  arranged  for  satisfac 
torily,  and  the  boys  arose  from  their  chairs. 
"Now,  Bill,  don't  you  think  we've  got  time  for  a 
foot-race,  to  the  hill  and  back,  before  the  boys 
come?" 


32  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

"We'll  l*ave  to  do  the  dishes  first." 

"Nothin'  doin'.  Why  not  leave  them?  Aunt 
Amy  can  do  them  when  she  returns,"  replied  Tom. 
He  never  believed  in  doing  anything  that  he  could 
get  any  one  else  to  do — in  the  work  line,  at  any 
rate. 

"No!"  Bill  said.  "That  wouldn't  be  nice;  your 
aunt  will  have  enough  to  do  without  washing 
our  dirty  dishes.  You  get  a  pan  and  put  the 
dishes  in,  and  I'll  get  a  broom  and  sweep  up  these 
peas;  you've  got  them  all  over  everywhere."  The 
youth  accordingly  started  for  the  broom. 

"All  right,  Bill!"  Tom  said  cheerfully,  "what 
ever  you  say  goes;  you  seem  to  be  running  things 
here.  Which  pan  shall  I  take?"  With  all  his 
helplessness — to  say  the  least — Tom  was  willing 
to  help  as  long  as  Bill  was  there. 

"Take  that  big  one.  Put  the  dishes  in,  then  I 
will  pour  some  hot  water  over  them.  Scrape  them 
first  though." 

Bill  began  to  sweep,  and  Tom  after  taking  the 
pan  down  from  the  hook  and  placing  it  on  the 
table,  commenced  picking  up  the  dirty  dishes. 
"There's  nothing  to  scrape,  Bill!"  he  called. 

"Well,  then,  put  them  in  as  they  are,"  Bill 
answered,  as  he  continued  sweeping  the  floor. 
When  done  he  replaced  the  broom,  and  taking  the 
kettle  of  hot  water  from  the  stove  went  over  to  the 
table  and  poured  its  contents  over  the  dishes. 
"Now,  would  you  rather  wash  or  dry  them?"  he 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFOENIA  EEDWOODS          33 

asked,  as  he  placed  the  kettle  on  the  table. 

"Ill  wash." 

"Get  to  work  then.  Take  off  your  coat  and 
roll  up  your  shirt-sleeves.  Tom  immediately  took 
off  his  coat  and  rolled  up  his  .shirt-sleeves  accord 
ing  to  his  adviser's  directions,  while  he  got  some 
clothes  from  the  drawer  for  washing  and  drying 
the  dishes. 

"Ouch!"  he  heard  Tom  cry  out  as  he  was  re 
turning. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you?" 

"That  water's  hot!  I  burned  my  finger,"  he 
lamented,  placing  the  injured  member  in  his  mouth 
to  console  it. 

"That  isn't  hot  at  all!"  Bill  replied  sharply, 
after  testing  the  water  with  his  finger.  "If  you 
can't  stand  that  you  better  let  me  wash  and  you 
can  dry." 

"Perhaps  you  better  fix  'em.  You  know  more 
about  doing  these  things  than  I,"  he  responded, 
after  taking  his  finger  from  his  mouth.  Thus  the 
boys  changed  places.  Bill  soon  began  washing  the 
dishes  and  laying  them  out  on  the  table. 

"Get  to  work  now!"  he  said,  "and  be  careful 
and  don't  break  them." 

Tom  did  not  break  any,  but  he  did  drop  one — 
the  first  he  touched;  it  was  too  slippery  for  him; 
he  could  not  hold  it.  But  by  the  time  he  had  the 
dish  picked  up  and  was  about  to  take  a  cloth  and 
dry  it,  Bill  had  finished  the  washing. 

"Give  me  the  cloth,"  he  said  impatiently.     "I 


34  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

can  dry  them  while  you're  getting  ready."  In  a 
few  minutes  he  had  the  dishes  dried  and  put 
away. 

"Did  you  feed  the  hens,  Tom?" 

"No!  I  never  thought  of  them  until  this 
minute.  Did  you  get  the  eggs,  Bill?"  Tom  sud 
denly  thought  of  something  that  needed  attend 
ing  to. 

"No,  I  haven't  been  near  them.  Did  your  aunt 
tell  you  to  feed  them?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"Didn't  you  read  the  note?" 

"Yes,  but  I  don't  remember  anything  but  about 
getting  supper." 

' '  Where  is  the  note  ?     Get  it  so  I  can  see ! ' ' 

"It's  in  my  pocket."  Tom  put  his  hand  in  his 
coat  pocket,  which  he  had  already  replaced,  and 
drew  forth  a  much  crumpled  piece  of  paper,  which 
he  handed  to  Bill. 

"Yes;  she  said  for  you  to  be  .sure  and  feed  the 
hens,"  Bill  remarked,  after  he  had  carefully  read 
the  note. 

"Well,  then  we  better  do  it.  If  you  feed  'em, 
Bill,  I'll  get  the  eggs." 

"Come  on  then;  it'll  soon  be  dark."  Both 
immediately  went  out  the  back  door  onto  the  porch. 
Here,  Bill  took  a  can  full  of  wheat  from  a  sack 
which  stood  on  the  porch,  and  then  they  hurried 
to  the  rear  of  the  yard  where  the  hens  were  con 
fined.  Bill  commenced  throwing  the  wheat  into  the 
yard;  the  hens  had  mostly  gone  to  roost  for  the 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS          35 

night,  but,  upon  seeing  the  wheat  flying  over  the 
fence  they  made  no  objection  to  jumping  down 
and  disposing  of  the  grain.  For  a  few  moments 
the  boys  stood  looking  through  the  wires  at  the 
feeding  hens,  then  Bill  said:  ''Now  get  the  eggs, 
Tom,  while  they're  out  of  the  hen-house." 

" Where  are  they?"  the  other  asked  stupidly. 

"Go  in  the  hen-house  and  look  in  those  boxes," 
Bill  ordered  severely.  He  was  getting  disgusted 
with  Tom. 

Tom  opened  the  hen-house  door  and  started 
toward  the  nests  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  coop. 
He  stopped  half-way  and  said:  "There's  a  hen 
on  one  box,  Bill.  Shall  I  scare  her  off?" 

"You  may  as  well." 

"Shoo!"  Tom  said,  waving  his  hand  at  the  hen; 
but  it  was  not  necessary  to  "shoo,"  for  the  sight 
of  the  boy  was  enough  to  send  the  hen  flying  out 
into  the  yard.  "Look  at  'em!"  he  continued,  as 
he  stooped  before  the  box.  '.'There .must  be  a  dozen 
or  two  of  'em.  What  shall  I  do  with  'em  all?"  As 
he  spoke  he  stooped  lower  and  began  taking  the 
eggs  from  the  nest. 

Bill  was  standing  at  the  door.  "Wait  a  minute! 
Maybe  she's  setting."  He  entered  the  coop  and 
advanced  towards  Tom,  who  stood  with  an  egg  in 
each  hand.  "Yes,  those  eggs  have  been  set  on. 
Put  them  back!" 

Tom  replaced  the  eggs  "How  can  you  tell?" 
he  asked  wonderingly,  as  he  looked  up  at  his  com 
panion. 


36  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

"Well,  they're  not  fresh  looking.  Here's  a  box 
on  the  floor  which  I  think  your  aunt  must  have 
had  over  her — to  keep  the  others  away.  It  either 
got  knocked  off,  or  else  she  took  it  off  for  fear 
we  might  not  notice  the  hen." 

"Get  those  other  eggs  in  those  boxes.  There's 
three  in  one,  four  in  the  other,  and  two  in  this  last 
one,"  he  added  as  he  'Started  toward  the  door. 

Tom  stooped  and  gathered  the  eggs  from  the 
first  nest  with  his  right  hand  and  then  placed 
them  into  his  left,  holding  it  close  to  his  body 
so  that  he  might  the  better  hold  them. 

"Don't  take  the  nest-eggs,  Tom,"  Bill  cautioned. 

"Don't  get  funny,  Bill.  Don't  you  suppose  I 
know  enough  not  to  take  the  nest-eggs?"  the 
boy  replied  smartly. 

"Yes,  but  you  have  one  in  your  hand  any  way." 

"Have  I?  You're  foolin'."  He  looked  down  at 
the  eggs  with  a  puzzled  look.  "Which  one  is  it?" 
he  inquired  softly,  a  silly  expression  coming  on  his 
face. 

"It's  that  one  underneath." 

"Oh!  That  one!"  The  boy  extracted  the  tell 
tale  egg  that  had  been  partly  hidden  by  the  others. 
"Oh,  well,  I  couldn't  see  that!"  he  exclaimed,  as 
if  the  fact  of  the  nest-egg  being  hidden  excused 
him  for  his  stupidity.  "They  do  look  alike,  though, 
don't  they?"  he  added,  as  he  carefully  examined  the 
false  egg,  turning  it  around  in  his  hand.  "No 
wonder  the  old  hens  are  fooled." 


STOKY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  EEDWOODS          37 

"Hurry,  Tom.  The  hens  want  to  come  in  and 
go  to  roost." 

Tom  began  gathering  the  eggs  from  the  second 
nest.  "Wait!"  Bill  spoke.  "I'll  get  you  the  can 
to  put  them  in — you'll  drop  them." 

"No  I  won't!"  he  answered  positively.  But  he 
did  drop — one,  and  when  he  went  to  grab  that  to 
stop  it  from  falling,  he  dropped  another.  "Look 
what  I  did,  Bill !  I  'm  always  getting  myself  into 
trouble,"  he  said,  as  Bill  returned  with  the  can. 
Tom  stood  there  looking  down  at  the  broken  eggs. 
Bill  took  the  other  eggs  from  him  and  put  them  in 
the  can  quickly,  without  a  word;  then  he  gathered 
the  other  eggs  from  the  nests  and  put  them  also 
in  the  can.  At  last  he  stooped,  gathered  up  the 
two  broken  eggs,  and  holding  them  in  his  hand  left 
the  coop  and  went  with  them  into  the  house.  Tom 
followed,  and  shutting  the  hen-house  door  also 
went  into  the  house. 

"Bill,  you're  a  wonder;  you  know  everything," 
Tom  said,  after  they  were  both  back  in  the  kitchen. 
"Why  couldn't  I  have  been  smart  like  you?" 

"Tom!"  Bill  turned  and  looked  at  his  chum; 
and  then  in  his  most  powerful  tone  addressed  him 
again;  he  had  stood  Tom's  foolishness  long  enough: 
"Tom,  you  ARE  smart;  you  are  far  smarter  than 
I  am!  And  you  are  quick!  The  trouble  with  you 
is  you  don't  apply  yourself;  you're  lazy  and 
worthless!  All  you  ever  think  of  are — games,  and 
having  a  good  time !  Why  don't  you  learn  to  work 
and  make  yourself  useful  in  this  world?  Then 


38  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

^ou'll  always  find  time  for  games  in  between 
times.  It  isn't  a  case  of  smartness,  Tom;  it's  a 
case  of  downright  laziness.  You're  trying  to  shove 
your  work  off  onto  me.  Why  don't  you  learn  to 
do  something? " 

And  all  the  while  this  "lecturing"  was  going 
on,  Tom,  shamefacedly,  with  bowed  head,  looked 
first  at  one  foot,  then  at  the  other.  A  few  mo 
ments  after  Bill  stopped  talking,  Tom  was  silent, 
then  he  spoke: 

"What  could  I  do?" 

"What  could  YOU  do?"  Bill  repeated  in  his 
former  severe  tones.  "There's  lots  of  things  you 
could  do.  You  could  cut  the  lawn — instead  of 
leaving  it  for  me  to  do;  you  could  get  up  in  the 
morning  and  make  the  fire  for  your  aunt — instead 
of  .staying  in  bed  until  breakfast  is  ready;  you 
could  bring  in  the  wood,  clean  up  the  yard,  sweep 
the  walk,  feed  the  hens,  and  get  the  eggs.  I've 
been  doing  some  of  these  things  to  help  your  aunt ; 
but  you're  the  one  who  ought  to  do  it." 

When  Bill  paused  this  time  the  other  quickly 
raised  his  eyes  and  looked  at  his  companion's 
face.  "I  believe  you're  right,  Bill,"  he  said  softly. 
Then  he  again  dropped  his  eyes  and  gazed  at  his 
feet.  Tom  was  beginning  to  see  a  few  things  for 
himself  any  way. 

"Then,  another  thing,  Tom.  You've  got  an  uncle 
that's  willin'  to  do  a  great  deal  for  you  if  you'll 
only  let  him.  (Bill  thought  of  his  own  uncle  and 
the  help  he  would  like  to  have  had  from  him.) 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  BED  WOODS          39 

I've  got  no  one  to  help  me.  Why  don't  you  let 
him  help  you?" 

Tom  then  raised  his  eyes  for  good.  "But,"  he 
objected,  "I'd  have  to  leave  here  if  I  did,  and 
I'm  not  going  to  leave  Santa  Cruz  for  any  uncle 
that  I  may  have." 

"Well,  you  ought  to  learn  something  any  way," 
Bill  advised  kindly.  "You'll  have  to  work  in  a 
few  more  years  and  you  won't  know  how.  Better 
begin  now." 

"I  believe  I  shall,"  was  the  eager  response. 


40  BILL'S   MISTAKE 


III. 

WHEREIN  BILL  MAKES  A  MISTAKE. 

"Doesn't  it  seem  good,  Bill— to  think  there  are 
no  lessons  to  get  to-night?"  Tom  remarked  with 
a  beaming  face,  as  the  two  boys  waited  in  their 
room  for  the  expected  company.  He  was  reclining 
in  a  rocker  with  head  thrown  back,  gazing  at  a 
picture  of  George  Washington  on  the  opposite 
wall,  which  his  aunt  had  given  him  for  a  birthday 
present.  "For  my  part  I'm  tired  of  this  thing  of 
study  in'  three  or  four  hours  every  night." 

"Yes,  Tom,  it  does  seem  good.  But  I  don't 
know  about  your  studying  three  or  four  iiours 
every  night,"  Bill  answered  from  his  bed,  where 
he  had  stretched  himself  out  for  a  few  minutes' 
rest. 

Soon  after  Bill's  arrival  in  Santa  Cruz,  when 
he  and  Tom  began  to  get  "chummy"  Tom  got  his 
aunt  to  let  Bill  have  a  room  in  her  house.  She 
was  very  glad  to  have  the  extra  money  that  Bill 
paid  her  each  week;  Bill  was  glad  because  it  Avas 
more  reasonable  for  him  than  where  he  had  pre 
viously  boarded;  and  Tom  was  glad  so  that  he  had 
somebody  to  talk  to,  night  and  day;  so  they  were 
all  satisfied. 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS          41 

Later — when  Tom  and  Bill  got  still  "chummier" 
— Tom  asked  his  aunt  to  let  Bill  move  his  bed  into 
his  room,  so  that  they  could  talk  without  having 
to  call  through  the  wall. 

So  here  they  were  in  their  bedroom  as  well  as 
reception-room,  for  it  was  a  good-sized  apartment 
and  served  them  for  all  purposes.  Their  room 
opened  onto  a  side  porch  so  that  it  could  be  used 
without  disturbing  the  rest  of  the  house. 

"Didn't  I  commence  studyin'  last  night  at  seven, 
and  wasn't  I  still  studyin'  at  eleven?"  Tom  replied 
to  Bill's  comment. 

"You  did  last  night,  but  that's  only  once;  be 
sides,  you  only  did  it  in  order  that  you  might  get 
your  experiments  written  up,  so  you  could  get 
through.  If  you  hadn't  left  it  until  the  last  thing, 
you  wouldn't  have  had  to  do  so  much  at  once." 

"Well,  I  couldn't  find  time  any  sooner,  Bill; 
there's  so  much  to  do." 

"Besides,  you  needn't  complain;  you  know  you 
only  copied  mine;  so  you  got  off  easy.  It's  lucky 
for  you  that  the  teacher  didn't  find  you  out." 

"Well  it's  work  to  copy  any  way.  .I'm  always 
leaving  out  words  and  sometimes  entire  lines;  then 
I  have  to  squeeze  them  in  somewhere;  and  then  I 
never  know  what  the  figures  mean;  I  never  could 
see  any  sense  in  this  experiment  business.  It's  a 
good  thing  the  teacher  don't  examine  them  care 
fully.  Isn't  it,  Bill?" 

"You  ought  to  study  more,  though,  Tom — for 
yourself — or  you'll  never  know  anything.  If  you'd 


42  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

study  your  lessons  and  learn  them,  you'd  see  more 
sense  in  things.  You  do  nothing  but  fool. ' ' 

"Well,  don't  I  try?"  He  was  leaning  his  head 
back  on  the  rocker  and  rolling  it  to  and  fro. 
"But  when  I  read  the  lessons  I  always  find  myself 
thinking  about  what  I  shall  do  Saturday;  and 
when  I  get  through,  I  know  more  about  what  I  am 
going  to  do  Saturday  than  I  do  about  the  lessons; 
or  else  if  I  don't  do  that,  I  find  myself  asleep 
before  I  get  through.  So  you  see  I'm  wasting 
time  whichever  way  it  goes.  It's  no  use;  I  may 
as  well  enjoy  life  while  I've  got  the  chance." 

"You  ought  to  learn  to  concentrate  your  thoughts 
on  something  besides  having  a  good  time;  if  you 
don't  you'll  never  get  along  in  this  world,  when 
you  have  to  go  to  work;  you  will  some  day,  you 
know." 

"Not  until  I'm  twenty-one,"  he  replied,  as  he 
continued  to  roll  his  head  on  the  back  of  the 
rocker.  "I've  enough  to  last  me  till  then — so  I 
sha'n't  worry  about  it  for  a  while  yet;  I  hope  it 
will  be  a  long  time  coming.  Besides  I  don't  believe 
I  was  ever  born  to  work  anyhow;  we  don't  seem  to 
agree."  After  this  last  remark  he  suddenly  sat 
upright  in  his  chair,  and  turned  his  head  in  the 
direction  of  the  door,  as  though  he  heard  some 
thing.  "I  wonder  if  the  fellows  aren't  coming?" 
he  said,  leaning  back  again  in  the  rocker. 

"It's  not  time  yet,"  Bill  answered,  as  his  eyes 
wandered  over  the  ceiling. 

"It  must  be  long  after  time,"  was  the  impatient 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS          43 

reply.  Time  always  went  slow  to  Tom  when  there 
was  something  good  in  sight. 

Both  boys  took  their  watches  from  their  pockets 
and  looked  at  them. 

"It's  eight  now,"  Tom  said,  replacing  his  watch. 

"Hardly,"  Bill  answered,  replacing  his  own. 

"It  is  by  my  watch,"  Tom  corrected. 

"Not  by  mine." 

"You're  slow." 

"You're  fast." 

But  just  then  the  argument  was  stopped  by  a 
sound  from  without  like  two  boys  stumbling  up  the 
stairs.  Tom  jumped  up  and  opened  the  door  to 
admit  Jim  and  Ned. 

"Hurry  up,  you  fellows!  Why  don't  you  learn 
to  get  around  on  time?  We've  been  waitin'  an 
hour  for  you."  Tom  was  impatient,  for  some 
reason  or  other. 

"I  hope  we're  not  late,"  -said  Ned  softly,  as 
they  came  into  the  room  and  removed  their  caps. 

"You're  not  late  at  all,"  Bill  called  from  the 
bed. 

"Get  up  here  now,  Bill,  so  we  can  get  started 
before  midnight!"  Tom  cried,  and  at  the  same 
time  placing  a  small  table  in  the  center  of  the 
room.  "  We  have  two  chairs  and  I'll  just  get  two 
more  from  out  of  Aunt  Amy's  rooms."  Tom 
started  for  the  door  leading  into  the  other  part  of 
the  house. 

"Can  I  help?"  asked  Jim,  wanting  to  offer  his 
services. 


44  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

"No!"  Tom  called  back  sharply,  as  he  left  the 
room.  "Don't  you  suppose  I  can  carry  a  couple  of 
chairs  without  assistance?" 

"Tired,  Bill?"  Ned  asked  kindly. 

"A  little,"  he  responded.  "I  always  believe  in 
resting  when  I  get  the  chance." 

Tom  returned  in  a  couple  of  minutes  carrying 
the  two  chairs,  which  he  placed  by  the  table. 
Jim  and  Ned,  who  had  been  standing,  up  till  this 
time,  sat  down,  drawing  their  chairs  close  up  to 
the  table.  Tom  got  a  chair  for  himself  from  the 
opposite  corner  of  the  room  and  sat  down  opposite 
Jim.  "Jim,"  he  said,  "you  are  the  best  player  in 
the  crowd,  so  I  take  you.  I  am  the  poorest — so 
that  will  even  things  up."  Then  he  took  a  deck 
of  cards  from  his  pocket  and  commenced  drawing 
them  from  the  case.  Everything  was  ready.  Just 
as  Bill  was  the  better  at  getting  supper  and  doing 
up  the  work,  so  Tom  wras  the  better  at  preparing 
for  a  card  game. 

"Hurry  up  here  now,  Bill — you  lazy  thing! 
We're  all  ready.  Get  up  off  that  bed!" 

Bill  slowly  arose  from  his  bed,  and  taking  his 
chair  from  his  bed-side  joined  the  group  at  the 
table.  For  some  good  reason,  Bill  did  not  care 
much  for  cards;  he  played  more  to  please  Tom 
than  himself. 

"We  needn't  hurry  about  quittin'  to-night, 
either,"  said  Tom.  He  was  mixing  the  cards. 
"Aunt  Amy  ain't  here  to  rap  on  the  wall  just  as 
we  get  started." 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS          45 

"But  we  will  have  to  leave  at  ten,"  Ned  re 
plied.  "Father  told  us  to  be  sure  and  leave  at 
ten;  and  then  you  know  we  have  a  long  walk." 

The  boys  gathered  up  their  cards,  and  after 
arranging  them  the  game  commenced — a  harmless 
game  of  some  sort,  so  long  as  no  harm  came  from 
it — and  continued  nicely.  The  best  and  the  poorest 
players  were  winning — decidedly;  so  all  went  well. 

After  a  time  the  stillness  was  broken  by  a  cry 
from  Tom.  Ned  had  just  taken  a  trick  which  he 
seemed  to  think  he  was  entitled  to. 

"That  is  mine!"  he  cried.  He  pointed  one 
finger  directly  at  Ned  as  he  spoke;  his  eyes  were 
wide  open. 

"No,  Tom,"  Ned  replied  softly. 

"That  is  mine!"  Tom  repeated  still  pointing  his 
finger  at  Ned.  "I  played  the  king;  you  the  queen." 

Ned  took  the  trick  and  spread  it  out  on  the 
table  before  all.  "But  you  see,  Tom,  Bill  trumped 
it." 

Tom  subsided  without  a  word. 

After  that  the  game  continued  peacefully  until 
Ned,  upon  examining  his  watch,  said:  "We  must 
go;  it's  after  ten." 

"Can't  you  play  just  another  game?"  Tom 
pleaded.  "Aunt  Amy  isn't  here  to-night."  Tom 
seemed  to  think  that  something  extra  ought  to  be 
done  because  Aunt  Amy  wasn't  home. 

"No,"  Ned  answered  decidedly.  "We  must  go 
now  or  father  won't  let  us  come  again."  He  arose 


46  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

to  go  and  Jim  did  likewise.  Ned  tried  the  door 
but  could  not  open  it. 

"How  do  you  open  your  door?" 

"Can't  you  open  a  door  yet?"  Tom  replied 
jokingly.  He  arose  and  went  to  open  the  door, 
and  finding  it  fast,  said:  "There's  a  catch  here 
on  this  side ;  sometimes  it  slips.  That 's  the  trouble. ' ' 
So  after  slipping  the  catch  he  opened  the  door  and 
Ned  walked  out. 

"Hury  up,  Jim,"  he  said,  after  going  outside. 
But  Jim  remained  standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
room  looking  around  with  a  dazed  expression  on 
his  face. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you  anyway?"  Tom 
asked  quickly. 

"I  can't  find  my  cap!" 

"There  it  is — over  there  on  my  bed.  Tom  )hrew 
it  over  there." 

Jim  hurried  across  the  room,  and  after  getting 
his  cap  returned  and  started  out  of  the  door. 
Just  then  Tom  gave  him  a  violent  push  in  the  back, 
which  sent  the  boy  hurrying  down  the  stairs  as  if 
the  house  were  on  fire.  "Hurry  up  and  get  out  of 
here  if  you're  going  to!"  he  said,  as  he  gave  the 
push.  Then,  after  shutting  the  door,  he  returned 
to  his  chair. 

"You  don't  treat  your  company  very  nice,  Tom," 
said  Bill,  after  he  was  seated  again. 

"Well,  I  asked  them  to  stay  and  they  wouldn't; 
so  if  they  were  goin' — they  may  as  well  do  it  in  a 
hurry.  I  don't  like  slow  people.  Now  come,  Bill, 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS          47 

we  may  as  well  have  a  little  game  by  ourselves." 

"No,  Tom!  I  think  we've  had  enough  for  to 
night.  There's  no  good  in  overdoing  things." 

"Please,  Bill."  Whenever  Tom  wanted  to  be 
especially  nice  he  always  said  "please." 

"No,  Tom;  I'm  tired." 

"Let's  toss,  Bill.  I  always  like  to  settle  things 
peacefully." 

"Well  go  ahead." 

"Heads  or  tails,  Bill?" 

"Tails." 

Tom  took  a  coin  from  his  pocket  and  threw  it 
into  the  air;  it  came  down  —  heads  up.  Tom 
looked  pleased. 

"Come  on,"  he  said  excitedly,  drawing  his  chair 
closer  to  the  table.  "I  win." 

"I'm  cold,"  Bill  said  shivering.  "If  I've  got  to 
play,  I'm  going  to  put  this  blanket  around  me." 
He  went  over  to  Tom's  bed  and  took  a  loose 
blanket  which  was  lying  across  the  foot  and  after 
reseating  himself  put  it  around  his  shoulders. 

"I'm  not  cold;  only  my  hands,"  Tom  remarked, 
when  Bill  was  getting  the  blanket.  But  Bill 
apparently  did  not  hear  the  remark.  After  he 
had  placed  the  blanket  around  his  shoulders  he 
again — very  reluctantly — drew  his  chair  closer  to 
the  table  and  was  ready  to  accommodate  Tom. 

"Haven't  we  got  along  just  fine  here  together, 
Bill?"  Tom  said,  as  he  began  shuffling  the  cards. 
"Never  had  a  bit  of  trouble,  have  we?  Been  just 
like  two  brothers,  haven't  we,  Bill?" 


48  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

"Yes,  Tom;  but  remember,  I'm  not  going  to 
play  later  than  eleven." 

"Just  as  you  say,  Bill." 

So  the  game  proceeded.  Tom  was  happy  because 
he  was  again  winning;  but,  as  time  went  on,  his 
luck  seemed  to  change  and  Bill  began  to  win. 
Tom  didn't  like  that.  Bill  continued  winning. 
Tom  began  to  look  desperate;  his  eyes  began  to 
show  fire ;  he  could  scarcely  control  himself.  At 
last  Bill's  score  went  far  ahead  of  Tom's.  Tom 
could  stand  it  no  longer.  Of  course  he  did  not 
mean  what  he  said,  but,  nevertheless,  he  said  it: 

"You  are  cheating!" 

"I  am  NOT!" 

"You  ABE!  I'm  on  to  your  game;  I've  been 
watching  you."  Tom's  temper  was  rising. 

"Now,  Tom,  look  here!"  Bill  returned  passion 
ately.  "I  know  you  didn't  mean  that,  Tom,  but 
I  won't  stand  THAT  kind  of  talk."  He  shook  his 
clenched  fist  at  Tom,  and  his  face,  as  well,  showed 
that  he  was  in  earnest.  But  Tom,  once  aroused, 
was  not  to  be  .subdued  so  easily. 

"I  DID  mean  it,"  he  snarled,  and  with  that  he 
jumped  up  and  commenced  hammering  Bill  with 
both  fists.  His  face  was  the  picture  of  anger. 
Tom  had  one  of  his  terrible  tantrums. 

What  could  Bill  do?  He  did  not  want  to  fight 
Tom,  but  he  had  to  defend  himself — there  was  no 
use  being  pounded  to  death;  so  he  did  his  best  to 
protect  himself  in  the  fight  which  ensued.  Indeed 
he  needed  to — for  Tom  was  quick  and  strong  and 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS          49 

when  he  got  mad  fought  just  like  a  little  tiger. 
Desperately  they  continued  punching,  clawing, 
hammering,  snarling  at  one  another,  until  Bill  saw 
his  chance  and  gave  Tom  a  push,  which  sent  him 
back  against  the  wall,  hoping  that  this  would  end 
the  fight.  But  not  so  with  Tom;  he  regained  his 
equilibrium  and  was  about  to  make  for  Bill  when 
he  saw  out  the  corners  of  his  eyes,  his  base-ball 
bat,  standing  in  the  corner  of  the  room ;  he  grabbed 
it,  raised  it  with  both  hands  and  started  for  Bill. 
He  was  fairly  crazed  with  anger.  Bill  snatched 
a  chair — the  most  convenient  thing — and,  raising 
it,  held  it  up  before  his  head  to  prevent  receiving 
a  blow. 

Just  at  this  moment  the  blanket,  which  had 
fallen  on  the  floor  when  Bill  arose  from  his  chair, 
came  into  use.  Bill  tripped  over  the  blanket  and 
fell,  taking  with  him  the  chair,  and  Tom — under 
the  chair.  They  fell  on  the  floor  all  in  a  heap — 
Tom  on  the  bottom,  the  chair  on  Tom,  and  Bill  on 
top  of  the  chair.  He  jumped  up  as  quickly  as  pos 
sible  and  removed  the  chair;  but  Tom  remained  on 
the  floor,  silent  and  motionless.  Bill  stood  there 
looking  down  at  the  inert  form,  wondering  if  any 
thing  had  happened;  he  became  white,  trembling 
and  frightened  when  he  realized  Tom  was  un 
conscious. 

"I  hope  I  haven't  hurt  him;  it  was  his  own  fault, 
though.  He  shouldn't  have  been  so  quick-tem 
pered,^  he  murmured.  He  stood  there  silently  a 
few  moments,  hoping  that  Tom  would  revive ;  then 


50  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

he  went  and  poured  some  water  from  the  pitcher, 
returned  and  bathed  the  unconscious  brow,  hoping 
thus  to  revive  him;  but  still  there  were  no  signs  of 
life.  After  a  little,  stooping,  he  lifted  Tom  from 
the  floor  and  placed  him  on  the  bed. 

Not  knowing  what  else  to  do,  he  went  and  sat 
down  on  one  of  the  chairs — thinking  that  in  time 
Tom  would  revive ;  he  was  trembling  all  over.  For 
a  long  time  he  sat  and  watched  his  unfortunate 
companion — it  seemed  hours — as  he  lay  on  the  bed 
with  one  arm  hanging  over  the  side.  The  silence 
was  unendurable ;  he  could  hear  his  own  heart-beat, 
like  a  hammer  sounding  against  his  chest.  He  gave 
a  sigh  of  relief  when  at  last  he  heard  the  town 
clock  pealing  out  the  midnight  hour.  It  came  like 
a  comforter  and  gave  him  courage  to  arise,  walk 
over  to  the  death-like  figure  stretched  upon  the 
bed,  and  look  for  signs  of  re-awakening.  But  he 
was  disappointed.  Then  stooping  he  looked  at  Tom 
closely — he  was  as  white  as  death ;  bending  still 
closer  over  the  unconscious  boy,  he  could  see  a  blue 
mark  across  the  temple;  reaching  down  he  drew 
up  the  hand  that  hung  over  the  bed-side — it  was 
cold  as  ice.  At  last  he  placed  his  head  on  Tom's 
chest ;  he  could  hear  no  heart-beat — except  his  own, 
which  was  still  hammering  against  his  chest. 

He  stood  up  quickly,  terrified.  His  face  looked 
like  that  of  one  who  had  suddenly  gone  mad. 
"He's  dead!"  he  choked.  "What  have  I  done!" 

For  a  moment  he  stood  motionless,  as  if  petri 
fied.  Then  when  he  fully  realized  the  awful 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS          51 

horror  of  the  accident,  he  turned  away  from  the 
bed  and  paced  across  the  room  wringing  his  hands. 
"What  shall  I  do?  What  shall  I  do?  I've  killed 
the  best  friend  I  had  in  the  world,"  he  sobbed. 
"I  didn't  mean  to,  though;  it  was  Tom's  own  fault. 
He  would  have  killed  me  if  I  hadn  't  held  that  chair 
before  me.  If  I'd  only  kept  my  promise  to  mother 
it  wouldn't  have  happened.  Oh,  why  did  I  do  it? 
/Only  to  please  Tom.  I  didn't  want  to  play.  I 
never  cared  for  those  miserable  cards." 

Then  he  turned  and  again  looked  at  the  silent 
figure  stretched  on  the  bed.  The  blanket  was  at 
his  feet ;  he  stooped,  picked  it  up,  went  over  to  the 
bed  and  with  his  trembling  fingers  covered  the 
body  completely.  He  could  not  bear  to  look  at  it. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  he  again  murmured  with 
quivering  voice.  He  was  shaking  like  a  leaf  in  a 
heavy  wind-storm,  so  that  he  could  hardly  keep  his 
feet.  He  tried  to  console  himself  with  the  thought 
that  he  was  not  to  blame.  "It  wasn't  my  fault; 
it's  a  cruel  mistake."  After  that  he  dropped  into 
a  chair,  unable  to  stand  any  longer.  A  few  min 
utes  later  he  said  aloud  softly:  "I  can  never 
explain  this  thing  to  anybody's  satisfaction.  If 
they  catch  me,  they'll  surely  hang  me  or  imprison 
me  for  life;  and  all  for  a  mistake.  But  I  know 
that  no  judge  or  jury  will  ever  listen  to  reason; 
it's  their  business  to  hang.  I'm  not  a  murderer — 
so  if  I  can  get  away  up  there  in  the  mountains 
among  those  big  redwood  trees,  I  may  be  able  to 


52  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

hide  so  they  won't  find  me.  I'm  going  to  try 
anyhow. ' ' 

He  immediately  arose  as  if  there  were  no  time 
to  lose,  crossed  the  room  hurriedly,  gathered 
together  what  of  his  few  belongings  he  felt  that 
he  would  most  need,  and  put  them  in  his  traveling 
-case.  His  books  he  left  in  their  accustomed  place 
on  the  table;  he  would  never  need  them  again. 
Even  if  he  escaped,  he  would  always  have  to  live 
apart  from  the  rest  of  mankind,  he  thought,  so 
there  was  no  need  to  be  hampered  with  books. 
He  took  a  blanket  from  his  bed;  that  would  be 
necessary  as  a  protection  from  the  cold.  It  might 
be  the  only  warmth  he  could  secure  for  the  cool 
nights. 

After  everything  was  ready,  he  picked  up  his 
traveling-case  and  slowly  moved  toward  the  door. 
He  hated  to  go  in  this  cowardly  fashion,  but  it 
was  his  only  salvation;  besides,  remaining  never 
could  bring  Tom  back  to  life.  Just  as  he  took 
hold  of  the  knob  to  open  the  door,  he  turned  and 
gave  his  last  look  at  the  silent  figure,  pitifully 
sobbing:  "Good-bye,  poor  Tom."  After  which  he 
opened  the  door  and  went  out  into  the  dark  night 
— the  moonless  night;  it  was  like  entering  a  vault 
of  eternal  darkness,  never  again  to  see  the  bright 
sunshine  or  to  be  free  from  sorrow.  He  was  leav 
ing  what  had  been  a  happy  home,  and  all  on 
account  of  this  cruel  mistake  of  his. 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS         53 


IV. 

FLIGHT  TO  THE  REDWOODS. 

The  terrified,  heart-broken  youth,  as  he  furtively 
left  the  house,  like  a  thief  in  the  night,  was  glad 
the  night  was  dark;  it  was  all  the  better  to  slip 
away  in.  Outside  the  gate  he  paused  as  if  doubtful 
which  way  to  turn;  sorrowfully  he  looked  up  at 
the  blinking  stars.  There  were  millions  of  them; 
they  seemed  to  feel  for  him.  He  could  hear  the 
dull  croaking  of  the  frogs  from  the  marsh  not  far 
away.  As  he  listened  the  chorus  grew  louder  and 
louder  —  almost  deafening  —  then,  as  one,  they 
ceased.  The  silence  became  painful. 

Choking  a  sob  he  turned  toward  the  west.  It 
would  never  do  to  go  near  the  main  street;  some 
body  might  stop  and  question  him.  Selecting  one 
of  the  darkest  of  the  side-streets,  he  turned  into  it 
and  crept  softly  along,  carrying  his  grip  in  his 
right  hand.  Once  a  man  appearing  suddenly  from 
out  of  the  darkness,  stopped  and  looked  at  him 
very  closely.  Could  it  be  that  the  horrible  deed 
had  already  been  discovered?  He  began  trembling 
again. 

"Got-  a  match,  young  fellow?"  the  man  asked. 

"N-no,"  was  all  he  could  stammer. 


54  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

The  man  passed  along  and  Bill  felt  relieved.  He 
continued  his  flight;  turned  and  went  up  the  hill 
past  the  school-house — the  school  whose  doors  he 
never  could  enter  again.  For  a  moment  he  paused 
to  look  at  the  dear  old  school  where  he  had  spent 
so  many  happy  days;  after  which  he  hurried  on, 
crossing  Mission  Street  and  then  up  to  the  higher 
hills.  Here  he  stopped,  put  his  luggage  down  and 
sat  upon  it  to  rest  before  going  further.  Sorrow 
fully  he  looked  down  at  the  twinkling  lights  of  the 
little  city  that  lay  peacefully  sleeping  beneath  him 
— the  city  that  he  had  learned  to  love  so  well  in 
such  a  short  time — looked  down  upon  the  "City 
Beautiful." 

And  as  Bill  sat  upon  the  hillside  looking  down 
at  the  city  as  it  slept;  before  it  the  murmuring 
waters,  beyond  it  the  silent  mountains,  over  it  the 
twinkling  stars;  he  gave  a  deep  sigh.  "I  hate  to 
go  away  from  here ;  I  wanted  to  stay  here  always, ' ' 
he  softly  murmured.  "Oh,  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
this  awful  mistake  of  mine  ! ' ' 

After  this  he  arose  to  go.  For  a  moment  longer 
he  paused,  and  looking  down  at  the  lights  of  the 
city  gently  said:  "They  look  like  the  stars,  only 
upside  down."  Then  it  was  hard  to  tell  what  they 
were  as  his  eyes  filled  with  tears  and  he  turned 
his  back  upon  it — perhaps,  forever.  Just  as  he 
turned  to  go,  he  heard  the  town  clock  through  the 
stillness  again  strike:  One!  Two!  "What!  is  it 
two  already — two  hours  in  coming  such  a  short 
way?"  Three!  "No,  there's  something  wrong." 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS          55 

Four!  and  so  on,  he  counted  until  the  clock  ceased 
at  twelve,  and  silence  again  reigned.  "It's  only 
twelve.  I  thought  it  was  twelve  before  I  left  the 
house.  It  must  have  been  only  eleven  that  I  heard 
strike  before." 

"Poor  Tom,"  he  sobbed  as  he  again  started  on 
ward.  "If  only  it  hadn't  happened.  It  was  his 
own  fault  though."  This  latter  seemed  to  console 
him  as  he  crossed  the  hills  and  entered  the  forest. 

At  the  edge  of  the  woods  he  paused  beneath  a 
huge  outspreading  oak,  whose  lower  branches  ram 
bled  along  almost  on  the  ground.  Here  the  tired 
youth  put  down  his  luggage  and  concluded  to 
rest  until  dawn;  it  was  too  dark  to  enter  the  forest 
such  a  black  night.  He  took  his  blanket  and 
wrapping  it  around  himself  sat  down  under  the 
oak,  leaning  his  back  against  the  friendly  trunk. 
For  a  long  time  he  sat  and  thought  it  all  over. 
Would  he  never  stop  shaking?  Would  he  be  able 
to  escape,  or  would  they  at  length  capture  him? 
Well,  anyway  he  would  be  free  as  long  as  possible ; 
if  caught  he  would  be  long  enough  in  prison  as  it 
was;  so  a  few  days  in  the  woods  would  only  help 
to  shorten  the  time.  He  was  going  to  escape  if  he 
could;  it  was  not  his  fault;  as  soon  as  dawn  came 
he  would  continue  his  flight  into  the  woods,  where 
he  hoped  to  hide  among  the  redwood  trees. 

But  it  was  no  use,  he  could  not  escape;  that 
would  be  impossible;  he  may  as  well  have  given 
himself  up  in  the  first  place.  That  very  night  he 
was  captured;  some  men  followed,  and  after  they 


56  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

saw  him  sit  down  under  the  tree,  advanced  upon 
him.  As  soon  as  he  saw  them  he  tried  to  escape; 
but  before  he  could  free  himself  from  the  blanket 
the  men  had  him  fast.  Three  of  them  held  him, 
while  a  fourth  took  a  rope  which  he  held  in  his 
hand,  and,  after  tying  one  end  to  an  overhanging 
branch,  proceeded  to  tie  the  other  end  around 
Bill's  neck.  This  was  a  cruel  thing  to  do,  in  a 
civilized  land — and  all  for  a  mistake,  too.  Bill 
gave  one  last  effort  to  free  himself  and — awoke, 
as  he  fell  over  onto  the  ground.  The  sun  was  just 
rising  over  the  distant  hills.  He  hastened  from 
his  blanket  and  after  gathering  his  things  together 
entered  the  forest. 

The  carriage  road  wras  just  below  him,  so  the 
nervous,  unhappy  boy  scrambled  down  through 
the  undergrowth  until  he  reached  it.  He  could 
make  better  time  walking  along  the  driveway 
than  he  could  through  the  bushes;  if  he  heard 
any  one  coming  it  would  be  easy  enough  to  hide 
behind  the  shrubbery,  until  they  had  passed.  He 
walked  along  cautiously,  through  Sycamore  Flat, 
listening  for  any  sound  of  pursuers  that  might 
come  from  the  rear.  The  morning  was  cool;  a 
light  mist  having  come  in  from  the  ocean  just  at 
sunrise.  But  Bill  did  not  mind  it;  it  was  all  the 
better  for  walking. 

He  continued  on  and  on  along  this  road  of 
many  curves.  It  proved  a  beautiful  summer 
morning;  the  mist  having  passed  away  the  warm 
sunshine  flooded  the  lovely  slopes.  The  trees  were 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS         57 

of  a  soft,  delicate  green  of  springtime  and  the 
flowers  were  brilliant  and  many-colored.  The  per 
fume  of  the  sweet  azalea  filled  the  air,  and  the 
feathery  tribe  were  singing  and  twittering  from 
the  tree-tops.  Everything  was  bright  and  beauti 
ful.  Yet  Bill  could  not  see  it;  all  he  could  do 
was  to  think  of  "poor  Tom"  and  how  it  all  hap 
pened,  as  he  trudged  along.  After  a  little  he 
paused  to  rest  in  a  shady  nook  and  took  a  drink 
of  pure  water  from  a  tiny  stream  that  guraled 
down  the  green  slope.  He  had  had  nothing  to  eat 
that  morning,  but  then  that  did  not  matter,  he  was 
not  hungry;  he  could  not  have  eaten  anything  if 
he  had  it.  All  he  could  do  was  to  sigh  and  think 
of  his  awful  mistake. 

As  he  continued  on  his  way,  after  a  time  he 
stopped  to  look  at  the  view  that  stretched  before 
him.  Unhappy  as  he  was  he  could  not  fail  to  see 
its  beauty.  On  either  side  the  wooded  slopes, 
thick  with  a  growth  of  trees  and  shrubs,  sloped 
downward — V-shaped  until  they  almost  met  at  the 
bottom,  leaving  room  only  for  the  San  Lorenzo  as 
it  rushed  onward,  plunging  and  foaming  among 
the  huge  boulders.  The  hill  at  the  right  curved 
in  the  rear  forming  the  background.  On  the  right, 
below,  half  way  between  the  carriage  road  and  the 
river,  was  the  railroad  track,  running  along  a 
narrow  ledge  of  rock  with  a  steep  precipice  below 
and  another  above.  In  one  place  where  the  ledge 
was  not  wide  enough  for  a  track,  an  arch  of 
masonry  had  been  added — it  seemed  impossible. 


58  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

It  was  a  beautiful  sight,  with  the  warm  sunshine 
falling  over  it  all  and  the  blue  sky  above. 

Toot !  toot !  The  train  was  coming.  Bill  watched 
it  as  it  crept  along  the  narrow  ledge.  Many  of 
the  passengers  had  their  heads  out  of  the  window 
to  admire  the  view. 

"They're  not  getting  as  fine  a  view,  though,  as 
I  am  up  here/'  he  thought  to  himself. 

Then  as  he  watched  the  train,  it  gradually  dis 
appeared  through  a  little  hole  in  the  side  of  the 
mountain. 

Honk!  honk!  Somebody  was  coming  in  an  auto 
mobile.  Bill  grabbed  his  belongings  from  a  stump 
where  he  had  placed  them,  to  rest  himself,  and 
climbing  the  acclivity  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
road,  hid  himself  behind  a  clump  of  lilac  bushes. 
It  was  best  not  to  run  any  chances ;  it  might  be  the 
sheriff  after  him.  He  lay  flat  on  the  ground,  face 
downward,  hoping  to  escape  being  seen.  But, 
nevertheless,  the  car  stopped  directly  in  front  of 
him.  He  commenced  trembling  again;  he  was  as 
white  as  death.  Yes,  they  had  seen  him;  it  was  all 
over  now;  he  could  not  look  up. 

"Oh-h,  isn't  that  bea-u-tiful !  The  finest  piece  of 
scenery  I've  ever  seen!"  It  was  a  woman's  voice. 

"Simply  grand!"  a  gentleman's  voice  replied. 

Bill  looked  up;  he  felt  relieved.  They  were, 
doubtless,  a  party  of  tourists  going  for  a  mountain 
ride ;  perhaps  to  the  Big  Trees ;  or  maybe  still 
further  into  the  Big  Basin,  or  some  other  equally 
attractive  mountain  drive.  As  Bill  continued 


STOKY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS          59 

watching  the  party,  one  of  the  gentlemen  stepped 
out  of  the  car  and  took  a  picture  with  a  small 
kodak.  A  small  boy  also  jumped  out  of  the  car  to 
watch  the  gentleman  take  the  picture.  Then  they 
both  entered  the  car  again  and  soon  the  party, 
laughing  and  talking,  rounded  the  adjacent  curve 
and  were  out  of  sight,  without  having  even  looked 
in  the  direction  of  the  lilac  bushes. 

After  breathing  a  sigh  of  relief,  the  youth  de 
scended  to  the  road  and  continued  his  course  along 
the  mountain  road  until  he  came  to  a  place  where 
the  road  divided;  the  one  at  the  right  going  down 
into  the  canyon.  He  examined  the  sign-board; 
the  upper  arm  pointed  to  Felton,  Ben  Lomond, 
Brookdale,  Boulder  Creek  and  Big  Basin;  the 
lower  to  the  Big  Tree  Grove.  Bill  chose  the  latter ; 
he  had  always  wanted  to  visit  the  grove,  ever  since 
coming  to  the  West,  and  this  may  have  been  his 
only  chance.  He  walked  slowly  down  the  grade 
until  he  came  to  the  river,  which  he  crossed  over 
the  swinging  bridge.  This  brought  him  into  the 
grove  of  redwoods. 

Bill  was  tired  after  his  long  walk,  and  hungry, 
too,  for  it  was  then  long  after  noon  and  he  had 
had  nothing  to  eat  that  day.  He  stepped  over  to 
the  lunch  counter  and  dropped  into  a  chair.  A 
waiter  came  to  him  and  took  his  order  of  some 
sandwiches  and  coffee.  After  having  disposed  of 
this  light  repast  and  having  sufficiently  rested,  he 
arose  and  went  toward  the  gate  of  admittance  to 
the  grove  where  the  giant  redwoods  grow. 


60  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

It  was  twenty-five  cents  admission  fee.  Bill  had 
not  much  money  left,  but  then,  doubtless  he  would 
be  taken  anyhow,  within  a  few  days ;  so  he  thought 
he  may  as  well  spend  what  little  he  had  left,  while 
he  had  the  chance.  So  he  entered  the  gate. 


STOKY  OF  THE  CALIFOENIA  REDWOODS          61 


V. 

AT  THE  SANTA  CRUZ  BIG  TREE  GROVE. 

In  a  grove  six  miles  from  the  city  of  Santa 
Cruz  stand  the  largest  of  the  California  redwoods 
(sequoia  sempervirens)  like  Titans  of  old  —  the 
monarehs  of  all  living  things.  The  huge  trunks 
protected  by  red,  fibrous  bark,  rise,  with  but  little 
taper,  to  a  wonderful  height;  and  far  above  the 
spreading  branches  gracefully  droop  with  their 
evergreen  foliage.  At  their  feet  grow  smaller  trees 
and  shrubs.  In  the  springtime  this  wonderful 
grove  is  carpeted  with  a  host  of  woodland  flowers, 
peeping  up  from  among  their  green  leaves.  The 
pink  oxalis,  the  yellow  violet,  the  dainty  wake- 
robin,  the  wild  strawberry  blossom,  the  cream- 
colored  Solomon 's-seal  with  bowed  heads,  the  odd- 
looking  trillium  and  the  blue  hound 's-tongue  on 
long,  spiky  stems,  abound  plentifully. 

The  largest  of  this  group  of  redwoods — the  Giant 
— is  twenty-one  feet  in  diameter  and  three  hundred 
and  six  feet  in  height.  The  lowest  branches  are 
over  one  hundred  feet  from  the  ground;  and  the 
age  is  estimated,  by  some,  to  be  in  the  neighbor 
hood  of  five  thousand  years. 

Among    the    largest   are :     Jumbo,    with    its    ele- 


62  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

phant  's  head  growing  on  one  side ;  General  Grant, 
General  Sherman  and  Colonel  Roosevelt.  General 
Fremont  has  a  cavity  in  which,  tradition  tells, 
General  Fremont  camped  during  the  year  1846 
with  his  Pathfinders.  This  cavity  is  capable  of 
holding,  comfortably,  fifty  people  at  a  given  time. 
During  the  visit  of  the  Atlantic  fleet  at  Santa  Cruz 
on  its  tour  around  the  world  in  1908,  seventy-five 
sailor  lads  squeezed  themselves  into  this  hollow. 
Ingersoll's  Cathedral  is  a  group  of  nine  separate, 
good-sized  trees  and  nine  smaller  ones  growing 
from  one  root.  It  is  one  of  the  finest  specimens  in 
the  grove. 

There  are  hundreds  of  others,  too  numerous  to 
mention  individually;  but  all  majestic  and  wonder 
ful  as  they  tower  their  massive  bulk  and  height 
skyward,  above  insignificant  man. 

This  is  a  place  where  a  lover  of  Nature  can  well 
afford  to  pass  away  the  drowsy  summer  days;  or 
where,  even  in  the  winter  time,  often  the  shadows 
are  not  unwelcome,  as  he  wanders  about  inspired 
by  the  might  of  our  Creator's  handiwork;  first 
wondering  at  the  marvelous  bulk;  then  raising  his 
head  to  gaze  at  the  wonderful  height  with  the 
drooping,  evergreen  branches  far  above.  This 
gigantic  grove  is  the  picnicker's  delight,  the  tour 
ist's  Mecca,  the  poet's  inspiration,  the  artist's 
elysium,  the  pride  of  every  Calif ornian's  heart.  It 
is  a  place,  indeed,  where  a  visitor  of  romantic  mood 
might  sit  and  dream  until  his  fancy  sees  the  fair 
Rosalind,  in  masculine  attire,  walking  among  the 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS         63 

trees,  reading  the  sonnets  of  her  unknown  lover 
as  she  advances,  crushing  the  violets  under  her 
dainty  feet;  or  wonder  why  some  modern  Robin 
Hood  has  never  come  in  such  a  place  to  blow  his 
hunting  horn. 

Our  fugitive,  having  paid  his  entrance  fee,  wan 
dered  about  among  these  ancient  trees  and  won 
dered  at  their  greatness,  as  many  another  had  done 
in  the  days  gone  by  and  as  others  will  do  in  the 
ages  to  come.  After  he  was  satisfied,  he  strolled 
back  toward  the  gate  and  sat  down  by  one  of  the 
trees  to  rest.  Meanwhile  several  other  parties 
had  entered  the  grove  and  were  viewing  the  giants 
just  as  he  had  done. 

Honk !  honk !  He  could  hear  the  sound  of  an 
automobile  in  the  outer  grove.  He  jumped  up  and 
concealed  himself  behind  the  tree;  wondering  who 
could  be  coming.  Another  party  soon  entered  the 
gate,  which  the  youth  recognized  as  the  same 
people  who  had  passed  him  in  the  morning. 

The  first  to  enter  was  a  stout,  elderly  lady  with 
gray  hair  —  a  very  important-appearing  person  — 
and  a  young  girl  of  perhaps  eighteen  years,  doubt 
less  mother  and  daughter.  Both  ladies  wore  green 
automobile  veils.  Bill  wondered  why  they  both 
wore  the  same  color;  but  concluded  that  it  must 
be  the  style,  so  of  course  both  would  have  to  have 
it.  A  small  boy  of  eight  or  nine  years  crowded  be 
tween  them  just  as  they  were  entering,  and  ran  on 
ahead.  An  elderly  gentleman  with  gray  whiskers 
followed  them.  Last  came  a  couple — a  delicate- 


64  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

looking  woman,  who  walked  with  the  aid  of  a  cane 
in  her  right  hand;  and  a  dark-complexioned, 
middle-aged  man,  with  a  kodak  strapped  over  his 
shoulder,  who  supported  the  woman  by  her  left 
arm. 

After  the  party  had  all  entered,  one  of  the  guides 
stepped  up  to  them  and  after  the  usual  prelimi 
naries  offered  to  show  them  the  Wonders  of  the 
West. 

"These  certainly  are  magnificent,  too,"  said  the 
elderly  lady,  as  she  walked  toward  General  Fre 
mont  to  inspect  the  forestral  wonder. 

"I  wonder  if  they  are  as  large  as  the  ones  we 
saw  in  the  Big  Basin,"  exclaimed  the  young  girl 
curiously. 

"I  hardly  think  so,"  the  elderly  gentleman  re 
plied,  as  the  party  advanced  toward  General  Fre 
mont. 

"Oh,  yes,"  the  guide  edged  in  quickly  upon 
hearing  the  remark.  "We  have  the  largest  here. 
I  have  taken  careful  measurements  both  places, 
so  I  know ;  but  in  the  Basin  there  are  larger 
numbers. ' ' 

"But  the  man  at  the  Big  Basin  told  us  that 
those  were  the  largest,"  the  girl  added. 

"Oh,  of  course,"  the  guide  returned,  with  an 
amused  smile  as  if  it  were  absurd  for  anybody  to 
give  such  false  information,  "he  wrould  be  sure  to 
tell  you  that;  but  it  is  not  so." 

"Well,  no  matter,"  said  the  elderly  gentleman, 
"they  are  all  very  fine;  for  my  part  I  can't  see 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS         65 

any  difference.  They  certainly  are  the  finest  trees 
I  have  ever  seen.  Fancy  one  of  these  in  Pitts- 
burg." 

"Come  in  here!"  excitedly  called  the  elderly 
lady  from  the  depths  of  the  tree,  where  she  had 
preceded  the  remainder  of  the  party.  "See  how 
much  room  is  inside  this  tree !  Would  you  be 
lieve  it!" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  guide.  "Fifty  people  can 
comfortably  enter  this  tree  at  the  same  time." 

So  the  entire  party  disappeared  into  the  cavity 
of  the  tree.  Bill  watched  them  as  they  went,  from 
his  seat  by  the  tree,  which  he  had  resumed  after 
finding  out  who  the  party  were.  After  a  little 
they  all  came  out  again  and  continued  their  tour 
of  inspection  through  the  grove.  After  a  little  the 
sight-seers,  having  completed  their  tour,  returned 
in  the  direction  of  the  gate.  Bill  could  again  hear 
their  conversation. 

"Are  we  ready  to  go  now?"  asked  the  elderly 
lady. 

"Yes,  I  am  ready,"  the  man  of  the  kodak 
promptly  replied.  "I  would  like  to  get  down  to 
the  beach  and  take  a  dip  in  the  surf  before  we  have 
to  go  on;  it  is  so  nice  and  warm  to-day,  I  know  I 
would  enjoy  it." 

"Come,  Alice,  we  are  going  now!"  the  mother 
called  to  the  daughter,  who  was  a  short  space  apart 
from  the  party,  diligently  examining  one  of  the 
trees. 

"But,    mother!"    disappointedly    exclaimed    the 


66  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

girl  as  she  joined  the  group.  " Haven't  we  time  to 
measure  the  Giant?  The  man  who  drove  the  car 
said  that  it  took  thirteen  people  with  outstretched 
arms  to  encircle  the  tree.  I  should  like  to  see  if 
it  is  correct." 

"But  we  haven't  thirteen,  Alice.  So  it  will  not 
be  possible." 

"There  are  some  people  over  there.  I'll  ask 
them  if  they'll  join  us.  There  are  eight  of  us 
including  the  guide  and  driver — I'l  ask  them  to 
join  us.  There  are  five  in  that  group  over  there; 
that  will  just  make  the  number." 

"Well,  ask  them  if  you  wish;  but  hurry,  for  we 
haven't  much  time.  Uncle  George  wants  to  take 
a  swim  in  the  surf  \vhen  we  get  back  to  Santa 
Cruz." 

Accordingly,  Alice  excitedly  ran  over  to  the 
other  party  of  tourists — two  men  and  three  ladies — 
and  asked  them  to  join  the  circle,  which  they  seemed 
willing  to  do.  Then  she  also  asked  the  driver  of 
the  car  if  he  would  assist,  which  he  assented  to  do. 

"Have  you  enjoyed  your  outing,  Ella?"  the 
elderly  lady  asked  of  the  delicate-looking  one. 

"I  certainly  have,"  was  the  cheerful  reply.  "I 
think  I  could  soon  regain  my  health  if  I  could  stay 
in  these  mountains  awhile.  The  air  is  so  invigo 
rating  here." 

"It  does  seem  as  if  we  had  no  time  to  see  a 
place  after  we  get  there,"  the  younger  gentleman 
added.  "We  could  easily  spend  a  week  here,  be- 


STOKY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  KEDWOODS          67 

tween  the  mountains  and  the  sea-shore,  if  we  were 
not  in  such  a  hurry  to  get  home." 

"But  we  have  been  four  months  from  home 
now,"  added  the  elderly  lady.  "Longer  than  we 
intended.  We  must  hurry  home  and  get  ready 
for  our  European  trip  this  fall." 

"Come,  mother!"  Alice  called  to  the  group  from 
the  vicinity  of  the  Giant.  "We're  all  ready." 

So  the  party  joined  the  strangers,  who  were 
already  assembled  about  the  tree,  and  began 
joining  hands  as  they  encircled  the  tree. 

"Ronald  isn't  here,  father.  What  has  become 
of  him?"  Alice  asked  wonderingly.  "He  was  with 
you  when  I  left." 

"I  don't  know,"  he  replied,  looking  around  for 
the  missing  lad.  "Perhaps  twelve  will  do,"  indif 
ferently. 

"No,  father,  we  MUST  have  thirteen,"  she  said, 
also  looking  around.  "There  is  somebody  over 
there.  Would  you  mind  joining  us?"  she  smiled 
pleasantly,  as  she  asked  the  favor  of  the  thirteenth 
person. 

It  was  Bill;  he  did  not  mind;  so  he  jumped  up 
and  hurried  over  to  the  circle,  where  he  soon  tound 
himself  joining  hands  with  Alice  on  his  right  and 
her  father  on  his  left.  Finding  the  measurement 
to  be  correct  the  party  dispersed,  to  form  another 
circle  in  the  open  space  before  the  tree,  to  show 
the  circumference.  Then  Uncle  George  took  a 
picture  of  the  human  circle  with  the  Giant  in  the 
background.  After  this  the  party  disjoined  hands. 


68  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

"Think  of  it,  father!'  Alice  whispered.  "There 
are  just  thirteen!  One  of  us  will  surely  die  soon." 

At  that  moment  Bill  could  feel  a  rope  tightening 
around  his  neck.  Yes,  he  had  been  the  thirteenth. 

"Perhaps,"  the  girl  continued  softly,  "it  will  be 
Aunt  Ella." 

"Hush!"  the  father  cautioned.  "She  may  hear 
you. ' ' 

Anyway  these  latter  words  came  like  balm  to 
Bill's  trembling  nerves.  "Perhaps  it  would  be 
Aunt  Ella,"  he  thought.  HE  was  not  ready  to 
die  yet. 

For  a  few  minutes  the  party  stood  talking  with 
the  strangers. 

"Aren't  these  trees  wonderful?"  Alice's  mother 
began  in  her  usual  important  manner.  "I  shall 
never  forget  this  day's  outing  as  long  as  I  live. 
We  have  had  a  long  ride  over  the  mountains  into 
the  Big  Basin.  Oh,  it  is  such  a  treat!  We  are 
from  Pittsburg,  you  know,  and  we  don't  see  things 
like  this  every  day." 

"Yes,  it  certainly  is  a  beautiful  locality,"  re 
plied  one  of  the  ladies  pleasantly.  "Ho^  the 
people  who  live  here  must  enjoy  these  beautiful 
things!  Even  in  the  winter  these  places  are 
seldom  inaccessible." 

"What  part  of  the  country  are  you  from?" 
asked  Uncle  George. 

"We  three  are  from  Oainsville,  Georgia,"  the 
same  lady  replied.  "This  other  lady  and  gentle 
man  are  from  Scotland.  I  presume  people  come 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS          69 

from  all  over  the  world  to  see  these  giant  red 
woods." 

"We  are  very  much  charmed  with  Santa  Cruz 
and  its  beautiful  environs,"  the  lady  from  Scotland 
uttered  with  a  strong  Scotch  accent.  "It  certainly 
is  the  garden  spot  of  California.  The  roses  at  the 
hotel  where  we  are  stopping  are  the  finest  we  have 
seen  anywhere  in  California.  We  are  thinking  of 
locating  here." 

"Well,  we  must  go  now,"  said  Alice's  mother. 
"Many  thanks  for  your  assistance,"  she  added 
smiling,  as  she  turned  away  and  followed  the  rest 
of  the  party  who  had  preceded  her.  "Are  we 
ready  to  go  now?"  she  asked  upon  reaching  the 
group.  "Where  is  Ronald?  Ronald!  Where  are 
you?"  The  party  looked  around  the  grove  eagerly, 
wondering  where  the  missing  boy  could  be. 

"Here,  mother!  Over  here  playing  with  the 
puppies."  The  lad  came  running  toward  the  group 
from  the  direction  of  the  cabins.  "Mother,  they 
are  the  dearest  little  puppies,"  he  cried  candidly. 
"The  man  wants  to  sell  them.  Can't  I  buy  one?" 

"Nonsense,  Ronald!  You  already  have  three 
dogs  at  home." 

"Oh,  ma-ma,"  with  the  usual  whine  of  the  dis 
appointed  boy. 

"No,  Ronald!  Impossible!"  the  mother  replied 
decidedly.  "Think  of  the  trouble  we  would  have 
at  the  hotels — encumbered  with  a  puppy." 

So  the  boy  gave  up  hope,  with  eyes  filled  with 
tears,  and  the  party  advanced  toward  the  exit. 


70  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

Bill  stood  near  the  gate  and  watched  them  as 
they  departed.  Alice  was  the  last  to  go  out,  and 
smilingly  bowed  toward  Bill. 

" Thank  you  very  much,"  she  called  thought 
fully. 

Bill  lifted  his  cap  in  acknowledgment.  Thus  the 
party  disappeared  from  his  vision.  A  few  minutes 
later  he  heard  the  honk!  honk!  of  the  car  as  it 
went  up  the  hill  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river. 

Then  Bill,  himself,  after  a  parting  look  at  the 
giant  sequoias  returned  to  the  outer  grove.  Not 
knowing  what  else  to  do  he  wandered  toward  the 
river  and  sat  down  by  the  water's  edge,  upon  the 
trunk  of  a  fallen  alder  in  the  shade  of  a  willow 
copse. 

It  was  one  of  those  perfect  days,  that  make 
Santa  Cruz  summers  seem  so  heavenly — not  too 
warm,  not  too  cool.  The  light  fog  of  the  early 
morning  had  tempered  the  air  so  that  it  was  just 
comfortable.  There  among  the  trees  and  shrubbery 
with  the  birds  singing,  the  flowers  blooming,  the 
clear  water  of  the  river  moving  silently  along,  and 
the  deep  blue  sky  above,  it  certainly  was  beautiful. 

But  heavenly  as  it  was,  Bill  could  not  see  it,  as 
he  sat  there  sadly  gazing  into  the  quiet  water;  all 
he  could  do  was  to  think  of  "poor  Tom"  and  how 
it  had  all  happened.  He  thought  of  how  together 
they  had  prepared  supper — only  the  evening  before 
— it  seemed  years;  and  how  they  had  enjoyed  eat 
ing  it.  Then  he  thought  of  how  harshly  he  had 
spoken  to  Tom  about  his  helplessness  and  wished 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS          71 

he  had  not  spoken  so;  also  of  the  game,  and  his 
promise  to  his  dead  mother ;  then  how  the  other 
boys  came  and  went.  Oh,  if  he  had  only  stopped 
when  the  other  boys,  as  he  wanted  to  dc--all 
would  have  gone  well.  At  last  he  thought  of  the 
terrible  result  and  how  he  had  left  Tom  there 
alone  and  fled  into  the  dark  night.  It  made  him 
shudder.  He  wondered  if  "it"  had  been  discovered 
yet.  What  if  Aunt  Amy  had  come  home  and  found 
her  dear  boy  lying  there  dead!  Would  not  it  be 
terrible  for  her?  He  certainly  was  heart-broken 
at  the  thoughts  of  it  all. 

"I  can't  help  it!"  he  finally  sobbed,  with  tears 
rolling  down  his  cheeks.  "It  wasn't  my  fault;  it 
was  only  a  mistake.  I've  always  done  the  best  I 
could  for  myself,  and  nobody's  ever  helped  me 
either — except  mother;  and  now  I'm  not  goin'  to 
worry  about  this  thing  any  longer.  I'm  just  goin' 
to  get  along  the  best  I  can  by  myself — if  I  don't 
get  caught." 

After  this  he  stood  up  for  a  few  moments  as  if 
ready  to  go.  He  looked  at  the  sun;  it  was  near- 
ing  its  rest.  Then  he  stooped  down  and  after  wash 
ing  his  hands  and  face  in  the  cool  water  arose  and 
slowly  returned  to  the  grove,  feeling  much  better 
after  his  declaration. 

That  night,  after  taking  a  light  repast  at  the 
grove,  he  obtained  permission  from  one  of  the  keep 
ers  to  sleep  in  a  deserted  hut  at  the  edge  of  the  grove. 
And  he  did  sleep,  too — the  sleep  of  the  just — for  he 
had  walked  a  long  way  during  the  day,  and  his  rest 
of  the  night  before  was  only  brief,  and  troubled. 


72  BILL'S  MISTAKE 


VI. 

CONVERSATION   AMONG   SOME   LOGANBERRIES. 

When  Bill  awoke  the  next  morning,  the  first 
thing  he  did  was  to  look  up  through  the  outspread 
ing  branches  of  the  tall  trees  at  the  sun;  it  was 
well  advanced  upon  its  day  ward  journey.  It  was 
a  beautiful  morning,  free  from  mists,  and  the  birds 
were  singing  merrily  in  bush  and  tree.  His  first 
thought  was  of  "poor  Tom." 

"Shall  I  never  get  over  thinking  about  him?  It 
makes  me  feel  awful,"  he  muttered  lugubriously, 
as  he  came  out  of  the  cabin  and  walked  down 
toward  the  stream.  Here  he  refreshed  himself  by 
washing  in  the  cool  waters  of  the  San  Lorenzo, 
and  then  went  over  to  the  lunch  counter  to  get 
something  to  eat,  before  continuing  his  journey. 
The  unfortunate  youth  felt  it  was  not  safe  to 
remain  near  a  place  where  so  many  people  were 
coming  and  going;  most  any  of  his  friends  might 
happen  along  and  accuse  him  of  base  murder,  for 
such  it  surely  was,  although  it  was  a  mistake  on 
his  part. 

After  sitting  down  at  the  table,  he  ordered  some 
coffee  and  rolls,  of  the  waiter  who  attended  him ; 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFOKNIA  KEDWOODS          73 

and  also  some  sandwiches  which  he  intended  taking 
along  to  eat  later  in  the  day. 

Bill  had  about  disposed  of  his  breakfast;  he  was 
just  taking  his  last  swallow  of  coffee,  when  a  man 
entered  the  grove  riding  in  a  small  cart  drawn 
by  a  horse. 

"Oh,  Charlie!"  the  newcomer  called,  to  the 
man  who  had  served  Bill  and  was  then  sweeping 
the  porch  of  his  dwelling-house.  "Did  you  hear 
about  the  murder?" 

Just  as  he  spoke  there  was  a  noise  sounded  out 
through  the  grove  like  the  falling  of  a  cup  upon  a 
saucer;  and  the  young  man  who  sat  at  the 
table  began  shaking  and  growing  pale.  His  head 
dropped  toward  his  chest. 

"I  am  caught,"  were  his  thoughts. 

"No!  What  was  it?"  Charlie  asked,  excitedly. 
He  stopped  sweeping,  and  paused  to  hear  about  the 
trouble. 

"Two  men  got  into  a  quarrel  over  a  game  of 
cards.  One  called  the  other  a  cheat — or  something 
or  other — and  a  fight  ensued;  one  man  was  killed," 
the  occupant  of  the  cart  quickly  replied.  "The 
man  was  found  dead,  lying  on  his  bed,  by  a  neigh 
bor." 

"Did  they  get  the  murderer?"  Charlie  asked, 
eagerly. 

"Yes;  he's  safely  landed  in  jail,"  the  other  add 
ed,  with  a  toss  of  his  head.  "Well,  I  hope  he  gets 
what  he  deserves — whatever  that  may  be." 

At  this  last,  the  young  man  of  the  fallen  coffee 


74  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

cup  began  to  revive.  He  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief. 
There  was  hope  yet.  It  was  not  him  they  were 
talking  about. 

' '  Where  did  it  happen  ? ' '  Charlie  further  inquired. 

"Somewhere  near  Aptos.  At  first  the  man  es 
caped,  and  tried  to  avoid  capture  by  hiding  among 
the  hills  !  but  they  soon  caught  him.  I  tell  you,  that 
kind  can't  escape;  they're  bound  to  be  caught, 
sooner  or  later." 

Bill  shivered,  but  hoped  it  would  be  "later"  in 
his  case.  He  lifted  the  cup  to  its  proper  position. 
Meanwhile,  he  could  not  help  but  feel  sorry  for  the 
prisoner,  whoever  he  was.  "Perhaps  he  didn't 
mean  to  do  it;  it  might  have  been  a  mistake  of 
some  sort,"  he  thought,  as  he  rose  from  the  table; 
also  thinking  that  he  had  better  get  away  as 
quickly  as  possible.  No  telling  what  might  happen 
if  he  stayed  around  there.  It  was  best  to  get 
higher  into  the  mountains. 

So,  after  paying  for  his  purchase,  he  hurried 
away  to  the  cabin,  and  quickly  gathered  his  posses 
sions  together.  Everything  went  into  his  traveling- 
case  except  the  blanket;  this  he  wrapped  around 
it,  and  then  tied  the  rope,  which  he  begged  of  Char 
lie,  around  all.  After  finding  a  suitable  stick,  he 
shoved  one  end  under  the  rope,  and  then  raised  it 
to  his  shoulder.  Thus  he  was  ready  to  start,  tramp 
fashion. 

"Perhaps  people  will  take  me  for  a  tramp;  but, 
then,  better  that  than  a  murderer,"  he  thought,  as 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS          75 

he  started  from  the  grove  and  re-crossed  the  swing 
ing-bridge. 

Thus  he  ascended  the  hill  until  the  main  road  was 
reached  again.  Turning  into  it,  the  youth  walked 
for  some  distance  until  he  came  to  an  open  space 
among  the  hills.  Ahead  of  him,  toward  the  left, 
he  could  see  the  houses  of  Felton.  He  paused. 
Directly  in  front,  by  the  roadside,  was  a  dilapidated 
picket-fence;  in  many  instances  the  pickets  were 
missing.  Beyond  the  fence,  running  parallel  with 
it,  were  six  or  eight  rows  of  berry-vines,  growing 
on  trellises  about  four  feet  high;  further  over,  Bill 
could  see  cabbage  plants,  lettuce,  peas,  beans  and 
other  things  growing  in  rows — evidently  some 
body's  vegetable  garden.  Far  in  the  distance,  al 
most  hidden  among  the  trees  and  shrubbery,  he 
could  see  a  modest  little  home. 

But  it  was  the  berries  that  took  Bill 's  eye ;  great 
monsters,  hanging  on  the  vines  by  the  thousands. 
Surely  nobody  would  object  if  he  crawled  through 
the  fence,  and  helped  himself  to  a  few  of  the  lus 
cious  berries.  There  were  such  quantities  of  them 
that  what  few  he  would  eat  could  never  be  missed, 
and  the  house  was  so  hidden  that  no  one  would  be 
apt  to  see  him. 

Accordingly,  he  lowered  his  baggage  from  his 
shoulders  to  the  green  grass  by  the  roadside,  and 
crawled  through  the  fence  in  one  of  the  places 
where  the  pickets  were  missing,  and  then,  after 
standing  erect,  began  to  pluck  the  berries. 

He  was  just  going  to  place  the  first  berry  in  his 


76  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

mouth,  when  suddenly  he  was  startled  by  a  head 
and  shoulders  rising  from  behind  the  bushes  on  the 
opposite  side.  It  was  a  young  girl  of  perhaps  fif 
teen  summers,  wearing  a  blue  gingham  and  a  sun- 
bonnet. 

"Get  out  of  there!  Get  right  out,  I  say!  I'll 
have  no  tramps  coming  around  here,"  came  from 
the  sun-bonnet,  very  decidedly.  "Oh-h,  but  you 
frightened  me,  so!" 

Bill  stumbled  backward  in  amazement;  he  was 
about  to  leave.  Then  he  spoke — thinking  it  better 
to  apologize. 

"Excuse  me!  but  I'm  not  a  tramp.  I  just  slipped 
in,  thinking  there 'd  be  no  harm  if  I  helped  myself 
to  a  few  berries.  I'll  go  right  out,  though." 

"No,  don't  go!"  was  the  quick  reply.  "If  you're 
not  a  tramp  you  may  remain  as  long  as  you  like 
and  eat  as  many  berries  as  you  wish;  there  are 
plenty  here.  Now  that  I  look  at  you  more  closely, 
though,  I  see  you're  not  a  tramp.  When  I  saw  you 
coming  down  the  road  with  something  over  your 
back,  I  thought,  of  course,  it  must  be  a  tramp;  so 
I  just  crouched  down  behind  the  vines,  hoping 
you'd  pass  without  seeing  me.  I  don't  like 
tramps." 

Accordingly,  Bill  commenced  eating  the  delicious, 
dark-brown  berries,  and  the  girl  resumed  her  pick 
ing  into  a  basket  which  she  had  been  filling. 

"Aren't  they  nice,  though?"  he  approved.  "Are 
these  Loganberries?" 

"Yes;  they  are  Loganberries.     They  were  propa- 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS         77 

gated  here  in  Santa  Cruz,  some  years  ago,  by  Judge 
Logan;  they  are  a  cross  between  the  red  rasp 
berry  and  the  wild  blackberry — so  father  has  told 
me,"  the  girl  explained  kindly.  "Just  look  at  the 
size  of  this  one,  will  you?"  At  this  she  held  up 
a  large  berry,  perhaps  an  inch  and  a  half  in 
length,  for  the  newcomer's  inspection,  but  just  as 
he  raised  his  eyes  to  look  at  it — it  disappeared 
somewhere  in  the  sun-bonnet. 

"I  always  eat  the  biggest,"  she  added. 

"Why  so?    Ain't  the  little  ones  just  as  good?" 

"Well,  you  see,  it's  just  this  way:  I  only  allow 
myself  to  eat  a  dozen  in  a  day,  so  if  I  eat  the 
largest  I  get  more.  This  last  one  was  thirteen 
for  to-day  though;  I'd  forgot.  I'd  already  eaten 
my  dozen.  What  is  your  name?" 

"My  name  is  Bill,"  he  replied,  thinking  that 
would  be  enough. 

"Mine's  Jessie.  We're  Scotch;  at  least  father 
is;  mother  was,  but  she's  dead  now,"  she  added 
sadly.  "I,  of  course,  am  nothing." 

Bill  thought  that  was  a  strange  remark;  but  in 
reply  said:  "My  mother  was  Scotch  also." 

"And  your  father?" 

"Father  was  an  American." 

"Then  YOU  are  an  American.  But  I  am  noth 
ing,"  she  again  said  queerly. 

"But  why  do  you  say  you  are  nothing?  Aren't 
you  Scotch,  too?" 

"How  can  I  be  Scotch  when  I'm  born  in 
America?" 


78  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

"Then  you  are  an  American." 

"How  can  I  be  an  American  when  my  parents 
are  Scotch?" 

"Well,  that's  a  question  I  never  have  been 
able  to  solve,  myself.  I've  often  wondered  about 
it  though." 

"Women  have  no  rights  in  this  country  any 
how;  at  least  not  until  they're  married,"  Jessie 
further  added,  and  at  the  same  time  unconsciously 
placing  number  fourteen  in  her  mouth. 

"But  why  not  until  they're  married?"  Bill 
asked  curiously,  as  he  watched  the  girl's  fingers 
flying  as  fast  as  her  tongue,  while  she  plucked 
the  berries  and  dropped  them  into  her  basket ;  also 
thinking  to  himself  that  he  had  often  heard  to 
the  contrary;  but  maybe  that  was  from  married 
women. 

"Well,  you  see,  as  I  understand  the  laws  of  this 
country — if  I  should  marry  an  American,  I  would 
become  an  American;  then  I  would  be  'some 
body';  but  if  I  should  marry  a  Scotchman  then 
I  never  could  be  anything,  because  I  never  could 
be  Scotch  since  I'm  born  in  America.  Do  you 
see?"  At  least  the  girl  had  her  own  ideas  on  the 
subject,  whether  they  were  correct  or  not. 

"I'm  afraid  I  can't  explain  those  things  to 
you,"  Bill  replied.  "There  are  some  queer  com 
binations  in  this  world."  He  had  ceased  eating 
the  Loganberries,  having  disposed  of  all  he  cared 
for,  and  was  about  to  depart,  when  Jessie  con 
tinued  : 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFOKNIA  REDWOODS          79 

"  Any  way  I  shall  never  marry  a  Scotchman." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  we  have  enough  of  them  in  the  family 
already.  I'll  never  marry  though;  so  it's  no  use 
to  worry." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  I  have  enough  to  do  to  take  care  of 
my  sister's  children,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 

"If  you  don't  marry  you'll  never  be  anybody," 
he  added  playfully. 

"Yes — I — will!"  she  said  emphatically. 

"What  will  you  be  if  you  never  marry?"  he 
inquired  wonderingly. 

"An  old  maid!"  Jessie  was  a  girl  never  to  be 
outdone  by  anyone. 

In  spite  of  himself  Bill  could  not  help  but  smile 
at  her  remark. 

"Now  I  must  be  going  along,"  said  he,  feeling 
that  it  would  be  better  to  get  to  the  protecting 
bushes  and  trees,  where  he  would  feel  safer.  "I'm 
sorry  I  frightened  you." 

"Oh,  you  didn't  frighten  me!  Not  after  I  knew 
you  weren't  a  tramp.  There's  only  two  things 
that  ever  scare  ME ;  I  mean  it,  too ;  and  I  '11  stick 
to  it,  till  the  very  last.  You'll  see,  nothing  else 
will  ever  frighten  me." 

"What  are  the  two  things?" 

"Tramps  and  murderers!"  in  her  most  power 
ful  tone. 

"Murderers!"  Bill  gasped  as  he  staggered  back 
wards.  What  could  this  young  miss  know  about 


80  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

murderers?  Was  every  one  he  met  to  shout  that 
word  in  his  ears? 

1  'Well,  you  see,"  she  went  on,  "it's  just  this 
way:  When  I  was  a  little  girl,  up  on  the  moun 
tain  where  I  live,  one  of  the  men  who  worke  1  for 
father  killed  his  wife  and  another  man,  and  I 
don't  know  how  many  more,  in  one  of  the  cabins. 
He  threatened  to  kill  father,  too,  and  all  the  rest 
of  us.  My,  but  I  was  scared!  I  was  sick  for  a 
long  time  afterward;  and  then  for  years  I  couldn't 
go  past  the  cabin  without  shivering.  The  mur 
derer  escaped  for  a  few  days  and  hid  in  the 
bushes;  but  finally  they  caught  him  and  hung  him 
to  one  of  the  trees.  Father  tried  to  stop  them, 
but  they  wouldn't  stop.  I'm  glad  they  caught 
him;  they  always  catch  'em  sooner  or  later 
though!  They  can't  escape!" 

This  made  Bill  wince.  He  hated  to  hear  of  such 
things.  He  supposed  it  would  be  the  same  with 
him;  they  would  surely  capture  him.  But  he  was 
going  to  escape  if  he  could.  He  tried  to  turn 
the  conversation  by  asking  her  if  she  was  not 
afraid  of  thieves. 

"Not  a  bit  of  it!"  she  replied  bravely.  "Why, 
once  when  I  was  a  little  girl  about  eight  years 
old,  I  was  visiting  some  friends  in  San  Jose.  One 
night  we  heard  a  thief  downstairs;  everybody 
was  afraid  but  me.  I  just  walked  right  out  of 
the  door  to  the  head  of  the  stairs.  The  thief  was 
just  starting  to  come  up  the  stairs,  when  I  said — 
lively,  too:  'You  just  get  right  out  of  here!  Do 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS          81 

you  hear?  Get  right  out!'  And  I  tell  you  he 
GOT!" 

Bill  did  not  wonder  that  the  man  "got."  "You 
must  be  very  brave  to  do  such  a  thing  as  that," 
he  ventured. 

"Well,  what's  there  to  be  afraid  of  with  a 
thief?  You  know  what  he  wants;  he  wants  to 
steal.  If  you've  nothing  for  him  to  steal,  that 
settles  it.  But  with  a  tramp  it's  different.  You 
don't  know  what  he'll  do.  He  may  murder  you 
or  he  may  walk  peacefully  by.  It's  the  uncer 
tainty  of  things  that  gets  away  with  me. 

"But  murderers!"  she  continued  emphatically. 
"Just  point  to  a  man  and  say  to  me:  'That  man's 
a  murderer,'  and  I  would  start  to  run,  and  run — 
well,  I'd  just  run  till  I  dropped." 

Bill  could  have  done  this  very  easily.  Under 
some  circumstances  it  would  have  been  great  fun 
to  see  her  scampering  down  the  road;  but  what 
was  the  use  of  making  the  girl  chase  her  legs  off? 
Besides  it  was  best  not  to  point  at  any  murderer, 
so  he  merely  said: 

"But  suppose  the  murderer  would  start  after 
you?" 

"That  wouldn't  make  a  bit  of  difference;  once 
I  got  started,  no  power  on  earth  could  overtake 
me." 

"I  must  go  now,"  Bill  broke  forth,  turning 
towards  the  fence.  He  was  anxious  to  be  on  his 
way. 

"Don't   hurry!    Wait   till   I   finish   my   basket; 


82  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

then  I  shall  have  to  go  myself.  I  can  pick  faster 
if  I  have  some  one  to  talk  to." 

"Well,  I'll  help  you.  I  may  as  well  be  work 
ing  as  standing  here  idle.  Besides  I  like  to  pick 
them."  Accordingly,  Bill  went  round  to  the  other 
side  of  the  vines,  so  he  would  be  nearer  the 
basket,  and  commenced  helping  Jessie  to  finish 
the  basket,  which  yet  lacked  considerable  of  be 
ing  filled.  "What  are  you  going  to  do  with 
them?" 

"I  and  my  sister,  who  lives  over  in  that  house," 
Jessie  pointed  toward  the  house  among  the  trees 
as  she  spoke,  "are  going  to  preserve  them.  They 
make  the  finest  kind  of  jam  and  jelly  to  use  in 
the  winter  time.  Then  I  shall  take  part  of  them 
home  with  me  when  father  comes  for  me."  After 
this  the  girl  placed  another  berry  in  her  mouth. 

"Ain't  you  eating  more  than  your  allowance?" 
Bill  asked  smilingly. 

"I  don't  suppose  one  extra  will  hurt  me,"  she 
returned  softly.  But  Bill  knew  of  more  than  one 
extra  that  she  had  disposed  of. 

"So  you  don't  live  here  then?" 

"Oh,  no,  I  could  never  live  in  such  a  place  as 
this,  long.  I  live  up  on  the  top  of  the  mountain. 
That's  the  place  to  'live.'  When  I'm  here  my 
sister  wants  me  to  do  all  the  work  and  take  care 
of  the  children  besides,  while  she  rests.  Now  I 
think  people  ought  to  take  care  of  their  own 
children.  I  don't  mind  doing  my  own  work  at 
home,  where  I  can  have  my  own  way,  but  I  don't 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS          83 

like  to  do  other  people's.  It's  always  the  way 
though;  those  that  WILL  do  are  always  having 
everything  shoved  onto  their  shoulders." 

"You're  right  enough  about  that!"  Bill  an 
swered  decidedly.  "Why  do  you  come,  if  she 
treats  you  that  way?" 

"For  one  reason!  Father  wants  me  to.  Bertha 
gets  lonely  spells,  and  the  blues,  and  I  don't  know 
how  many  other  things;  father  just  insists  that  I 
come  down  for  a  while  and  cheer  her  up.  You 
see  my  brother-in-law  is  a  traveling  man  and  he's 
gone  sometimes  for  several  weeks  at  a  stretch. 
Then  Bertha  gets  lonely  when  she's  left  alone.  I 
don't  see  what  people  want  to  get  lonely  for  in 
a  beautiful  world  like  this." 

The  basket  was  about  full;  Bill  stopped  pick 
ing  and  started  toward  the  fence.  "Now  I  must 
go,"  he  said.  "Thank  you  for  the  berries." 

"Oh,  you  needn't  thank  me!  They  don't  belong 
to  me.  I  just  come  here  and  get  what  I  like. 
They  belong  to  an  old  man  who  lives  in  that 
house  over  there."  The  girl  pointed  to  a  house 
a  little  distance  off  from  the  other  side  of  the  road. 
She  had  also  stopped  picking.  "He  told  Sister 
she  could  have  all  she  wanted." 

Bill  crawled  through  the  fence. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  Jessie  inquired  in 
quisitively. 

"Somewhere  up  in  the  mountains,  where  I  can 
get  work  for  the  summer." 

"I'm  afraid  I  can't  offer  you  anything.     If  it 


84  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

was  a  little  later  in  the  season  father  could  give 
you  work  picking  grapes,  but  not  for  a  long  time 
yet." 

"Thank  you  just  the  same;  I'll  find  something. 
Good-bye."  He  had  already  shouldered  his  lug 
gage  and  thus  started  down  the  road. 

"Good-bye!"  Jessie  called  out  kindly.  "You  do 
look  like  a  tramp  now!" 

After  continuing  a  piece  along  the  road,  he 
came  to  a  turn.  Looking  back  he  could  see  Jessie 
going  toward  the  house.  Just  then  she,  herself, 
turned  and  seeing  him  looking  backward  waved 
her  hand.  After  returning  her  farewell,  he  again 
proceeded  upon  his  way,  thinking  of  the  pleasant 
little  chat  he  had  with  the  mountain  girl. 

Just  then  a  long  freight-train  came  winding 
down  from  the  high  mountains  with  car  after  car 
of  redwood  lumber,  the  sight  of  which  put  an  idea 
into  his  head.  He  would  follow  the  railroad  track 
instead  of  the  wagon  road;  and  thus  perhaps 
reach  a  lumber-mill  where  he,  doubtless,  could 
obtain  work. 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS         85 


VII. 

A  REDWOOD  SAWMILL. 

Down  deep  in  the  very  bottom  of  the  Basin, 
beside  the  laughing,  sparkling  water  of  the  moun 
tain  stream,  shaded  by  the  stately  majestic  red 
woods,  stood  the  busy  little  mill.  As  Bill  trudged 
down  the  steep,  dusty  road,  weary  and  foot-sore, 
before  coming  to  the  bottom,  he  could  look  down 
and  see  the  mill,  and  the  mill-men  hurrying  to 
and  fro,  in  and  out,  busy  as  the  bees  about  a  hive; 
and  hear  the  continuous  hum  as  the  great  saws 
converted  the  redwoods  into  building  material. 

As  he  approached  he  could  see  the  men  upon 
the  opposite  slope  felling  the  trees,  while  others 
were  engaged  in  hauling  the  logs  down  to  the 
mill-pond.  Arriving  at  the  mill  he  soon  became 
fascinated  at  the  sight  of  the  mill-men  dexterously 
manipulating  the  huge  logs  from  the  mill-pond 
into  the  mill,  where  the  keen  saws  converted  them 
into  lumber,  after  which  the  lumber  was  carried 
along  to  the  rear,  where  it  was  placed  on  flat 
cars,  and  then  by  means  of  an  iron  cable  was 
drawn  up  the  opposite  hillside,  from  the  one  the 
youth  descended ;  and  there  it  was  transferred  to 
the  cars  of  the  main  railroad  and  shipped  away 
to  the  cities  for  building  purposes. 


86  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

For  a  long  time  Bill  idly  strolled  around  and 
watched  the  mill-hands  at  their  work;  presently 
he  concluded  that  he  would  ask  for  a  job  and 
if  he  could  get  it  would  make  his  home  there — • 
for  a  time  at  least.  It  was  as  good  a  place  as 
any  to  hide.  So  bravely,  unhesitatingly,  he  walked 
up  to  one  of  the  men  and  asked  for  the  foreman. 

"That's  him  over  there  by  that  pile  of  lumber," 
was  the  gruff  response.  "Mr.  Bradley 's  his 
name." 

Bill  looked  and  saw  a  tall,  thin,  morose-looking 
man  with  heavy  mustache  superintending  the  re 
moval  of  some  lumber.  He  walked  over  toward 
Mr.  Bradley  and  spoke: 

"Do  I  understand  that  you  are  the  foreman 
here?" 

"Yes,"  the  man  said,  turning  to  look  at  the 
speaker. 

"Are  you  in  need  of  any  extra  mill-men?  I  am 
very  anxious  to  get  work  during  my  vacation," 
Bill  said  in  a  complacent  manner. 

"Where  are  you  from?"  the  foreman  inquired 
severely. 

"Santa  Cruz." 

"Are  you  used  to  work?"  further  questioned 
Mr.  Bradley  softening. 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  replied  eagerly.  "I've  always 
had  to  work,  ever  since  I  can  remember." 

"Well,  you  look  as  if  you  might  be  a  worker — 
if  you  have  a  mind  to.  How  old  are  you?" 

"I'm  just  eighteen  this  month." 


STOKY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS          87 

"Yes,  I  need  another  hand  to  help  with  the 
loading/'  Mr.  Bradley  replied  with  satisfaction, 
after  thinking  a  moment. 

At  length  it  was  arranged  that  Bill  would  com 
mence  his  duties  at  the  mill  the  following  morn 
ing,  at  a  satisfactory  compensation. 

Just  then  the  whistle  blew  for  the  noon-hour 
and  the  men  quit  their  work. 

"Can  I  get  my  meals  here?  And  where  shall  I 
sleep?" 

"Over  there;  that  building  is  the  cook-house; 
you  will  get  your  meals  there."  Mr.  Bradley 
pointed  to  a  small,  square  building  built  of  rough 
redwood  lumber,  that  stood  on  the  sunny  slope 
in  the  shadow  of  some  trees.  "Just  beyond  are 
the  cabins  where  the  men  sleep." 

Bill  could  see  half  a  dozen  small  cabins  similar 
to  the  ones  he  had  seen  further  up  the  hill,  only 
these  were  in  better  condition. 

Mr.  Bradley  paused  a  moment  and  looked 
thoughtful,  then  he  spoke  slowly:  "I'm  not  sure 
whether  you  can  have  a  cabin  to  yourself  or  not; 
they  are  all  fitted  with  bunks  for  two.  Now  I 
know  of  one  which  has  but  one  occupant;  you  can 
go  in  with  him,  or,  if  you'd  rather  have  one  to 
yourself,  there  are  some  old  cabins  upon  the  other 
side  of  the  hill.  Casey,  one  of  my  men,  occupies 
one  of  them;  the  rest  are  empty;  if  you  prefer  you 
may  take  one  of  those." 

"I  believe  I  would."     He  feared  that  he  might 


88  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

talk  in  his  sleep  and  if  so  it  would  be  better  to 
be  alone. 

"We  formerly  used  those  cabins,"  Mr.  Bradley 
went  on,  "but  it  was  too  shady  on  that  side  of 
the  hill  and  they  were  right  under  the  trees  also ; 
so  we  had  some  new  ones  built  on  the  sunny  side 
of  the  hill.  Now  that  summer  is  here,  the  old 
ones  will  not  be  so  bad;  and  you  will  have  Casey 
for  company.  Come  now  and  we  will  have 
dinner. ' ' 

Together  the  two  men  walked  toward  the  cook 
house  where  Bill  soon  found  himself  among  the 
work-men,  busily  appeasing  his  keen  appetite 
brought  on  by  his  long  morning  walk.  The  noon 
day  meal  over,  the  men  returned  to  their  work 
and  Bill  walked  over  to  the  creek  and  there  in  a 
shady  place  he  sat  down  upon  a  moss-grown  rock 
and  watched  the  ever-moving  water  forcing  its 
course  among  the  boulders.  The  sound  came  like 
music  to  the  boy's  ears — the  music  of  the  forest. 

Later  in  the  afternoon,  Bill  took  his  duds  and 
ascended  the  hill  to  the  place  where  the  two  roads 
met.  Here  he  descended  the  foot-path  which  he  had 
noticed  in  the  morning,  just  before  a  rock  he  had 
sat  upon.  Continuing  down  the  path,  often  the 
ferns  and  woody  plants,  which  grew  by  the  path- 
side,  would  brush  against  his  lower  limbs  on 
account  of  the  narrowness  of  the  trail.  He  crossed 
the  little  rustic  bridge  which  spanned  the  tiny 
stream  he  could  easily  have  jumped  across,  and 
advanced  on  the  path  up  the  opposite  acclivity, 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS         89 

gently  rising,  parallel  with  the  stream,  until  he 
reached  the  four  cabins  surrounded  by  good-sized 
redwood  trees. 

For  a  moment  the  youth  stopped  before  the 
cabins  and  disapprovingly  examined  their  exterior. 
They  were  built  alike — or  nearly  so — of  rough 
redwood  board  and  batting  and  were  unpainted. 
The  shingle  roofs  were  sadly  the  worse  for  age; 
in  many  cases  shingles  had  become  loosened  and 
had  fallen,  leaving  the  sheeting  exposed  in  many 
places.  Each  cabin  had  in  the  front  a  door  on 
right-hand  side  with  three  steps  ascending  to  it, 
and  a  .small  six-paned  window  on  the  left  side. 
Many  of  the  panes  were  either  partly  broken  or 
had  entirely  disappeared. 

The  second  cabin  had  the  appearance  of  being 
the  best  preserved.  Bill  tried  the  door;  it  was 
fastened.  Obviously  this  was  the  one  occupied  by 
Casey.  He  tried  the  door  of  the  third  cabin;  it 
opened.  Thus  Bill  entered.  The  interior  was 
divided,  forming  two  compartments;  the  first  con 
tained  at  one  side,  two  bunks  with  their  heads 
together,  or  their  feet,  according  as  one  chose. 
The  remains  of  a  wooden  bench  stood  by  one  of 
the  bunks  and  a  small  cracked  mirror  hung  on 
the  wall.  Otherwise  the  room  was  bare.  Bill 
opened  the  door  communicating  with  the  rear 
compartment;  it  was  empty;  it  had  evidently  been 
built  for  cooking  purposes,  as  the  relics  of  a 
stove-pipe  hung  from  a  hole  in  the  ceiling.  An 
other  door  gave  egress  at  the  rear  of  the  cabin. 


90  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

Bill  opened  it  and  looked  up  the  shady  ascent  at 
the  ferns  and  huckleberry  foliage  with  their 
bright,  shiny  leaves,  that  covered  the  slope. 

After  examining  the  first  and  fourth  cabins,  Bill 
returned  to  the  third.  It  suited  him  best  because 
a  key  which  he  found  on  the  floor  would  lock  the 
rear  door.  The  front  he  planned  upon  nailing 
up  after  he  procured  a  hammer  and  some  nails 
from  the  mill. 

The  next  thing  he  did  was  to  gather  some  fallen 
redwood  leaves,  which  he  scraped  up  into  his 
blanket,  then  took  and  emptied  them  in  the  bunk 
which  he  had  selected  for  his  bed.  These  he 
thought  would  be  softer  than  sleeping  on  the  hard 
boards.  Later  in  the  day,  after  he  had  gone  to 
the  mill  for  his  evening  meal,  he  returned  bringing 
with  him  a  sack  which  he  filled  with  leaves  for  a 
pillow  and  also  the  hammer  and  nails.  By  nailing 
the  door  he  would  feel  that  his  effects  would  be 
safe  from  any  prowlers  that  might  happen  along 
during  his  absence.  When  everything  wa^  ar 
ranged  to  the  best  advantage,  Bill  sat  down  on 
the  broken  bench. 

It  was  a  crude  home,  there  among  the  red 
woods — a  dreary,  lonely,  silent — save  for  the  low 
murmur  of  the  ever-falling  water  in  the  brook — 
and  heart-broken  home;  but  such  as  it  was  it  was 
far  better  than  spending  a  life  behind  prison  bars. 
The  first  night  was  a  desolate,  heart-rending  one 
for  the  unfortunate  boy,  haunted  by  silence.  He 
was  restless  and  could  not  sleep;  the  sinister 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS         91 

thoughts  of  his  awful  mistake  rang  in  his  ears. 
Again  he  would  think  back  to  what  seemed  cen 
turies  ago,  of  the  happy  home  far,  far  away,  and 
the  dear  mother,  whom  he  missed  so  greatly.  At 
last  he  fell  into  a  troubled  sleep. 

The  next  morning,  after  dressing  he  hurried 
down  to  the  mill  and  after  eating  a  hearty  break 
fast  and  cheered  by  the  beautiful  June  sunshine 
and  the  cool,  fresh  mountain  air,  commenced  his 
duties  at  the  mill,  helping  load  the  lumber  onto 
the  cars,  as  he  was  assigned  to  do,  and  then 
watching  them  as  they  ascended  the  steep  grade 
drawn  by  the  iron  cable. 

And  so  there  he  worked,  day  by  day,  hard  as  it 
was,  for  it  made  his  back  ache  and  his  hands 
filled  with  slivers,  but  he  did  not  complain;  he 
always  felt  better  when  he  was  working  hardest; 
it  made  him  forget.  Besides  he  felt  so  secure; 
surely  no  one  would  ever  think  of  looking  in  such 
a  place  for  him.  Sometimes  he  would  even  think 
it  beautiful,  with  the  green  trees  rising  tier  upon 
tier  on  the  slopes,  like  an  army  marching  up  the 
hillsides,  and  the  odor  of  the  freshly-sawed  lumber 
ever  striking  his  nostrils. 

It  was  true  that  many  of  the  mill-men  worked 
with  lighter  hearts  or  brighter  faces,  but  none 
worked  with  more  determination  and  well-meaning 
than  Bill.  It  was  exasperating,  too,  for  his  help 
mate  was  a  surly  old  fellow,  hard  to  please  and 
uncommunicative.  Whatever  Bill  did,  was  done 


92  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

wrong,  according  to  his  estimation  and  brought 
forth  a  snarling,  unkind  remark. 

One  day  Mr.  Bradley  and  Casey  were  engaged 
in  conversation,  just  a  little  apart  from  where  Bill 
and  his  partner  were  busily  engaged  loading  a  car. 

"That  young  fellow  appears  to  be  a  lively 
worker;  but  he  seems  to  be  worried  about  some 
thing,"  Mr.  Bradley  said  wonderingly.  "Like  as 
not  it's  to  do  with  some  girl.  I  remember  when  I 
was  that  age,  I  used  to  be  troubled  in  the  same 
way.  He'll  get  over  it,  the  next  nice-looking  girl 
that  happens  along." 

But  Casey  only  solemnly  replied:  "I  dunno. 
You  can't  always  tell." 

Casey  was  an  old  bachelor. 

The  only  friend  Bill  managed  to  make  was  a 
young  man  a  few  years  his  senior,  by  name  Henry 
West,  a  young  Californian  of  clean  habits.  The 
majority  of  the  mill-men  were  of  a  foreign  cast. 
West  was  one  of  the  engineers  who  had  charge 
of  the  cable  system.  They  would  often  spend  their 
evenings  together  talking,  or  walking  over  one  of 
the  many  mountain  trails. 

One  Sunday  they  had  arranged  to  go  trout  fish 
ing  together.  Upon  their  return  home  after  a 
plentiful  catch  Henry  said  to  Bill: 

"Would  you  like  to  go  to  Santa  Cruz  next  Sat 
urday  for  the  opening  of  the  Casino  for  the 
summer  season?  It's  always  a  grand  affair.  We 
can  go  down  on  the  evening  train  and  then  return 
on  Sunday." 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS         93 

Bill  was  silent  for  a  moment.  It  would  never  do 
for  him  to  show  his  face  in  Santa  Cruz  again,  and 
yet  he  did  not  know  how  to  get  out  of  it. 

"Will  you  go?"  West  asked  again,  wondering 
at  Bill's  reticence. 

"I — I  don't  believe  I  care  to,"  he  finally  stam 
mered.  "I — I  much  rather  stay  here  and  go  tish- 
ing." 

"Oh,  come  ahead;  we'll  have  a  swell  time." 

"Well,  I'll  see.  I'll  make  up  my  mind  in  a  few 
days  and  let  you  know."  Bill  thought  to  put  his 
friend  off  a  few  days,  which  would  give  him  a 
chance  to  think  of  some  satisfactory  excuse  for 
remaining  away,  and  yet  not  to  offend  Henry. 

But  a  fortunate  thing  happened  a  few  days  later 
— for  Bill,  at  least.  Henry  West  received  a  tele 
gram  that  his  father  was  very  ill  in  Sacramento 
and  for  him  to  hasten  to  his  bed-side.  Henry 
left  early  Thursday  morning;  this  relieved  Bill's 
anxiety. 

On  Saturday  evening  just  as  Bill  was  returning 
from  work  to  his  cabin,  he  saw  a  young  girl,  carry 
ing  a  large  bunch  of  flowers,  coming  toward  him 
along  the  road  upon  which  he  had  walked  from 
Santa  Cruz.  He  was  just  turning  from  the  road 
to  go  down  the  path  into  the  ravine  when  she 
called  to  him  pleasantly. 

"Hello!" 

He  considered  her  rather  forward,  but  thinking 
perhaps  it  might  be  the  custom  of  the  mountains 
to  exchange  greetings  with  strangers,  he  courte- 


94  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

ously  bowed  and  lifted  his  cap.  Thus  he  con 
tinued  down  the  path  to  his  lonely  cabin. 

"Why,  don't  you  know  me?"  the  girl  called 
with  astonishment. 

Bill  stopped  and  turned. 

"Don't  you  remember  Jessie?     I'm  Jessie.'' 

Bill  scrambled  back  to  the  road  with  a  glad 
smile  spreading  on  his  face.  "Why,  so  it  is! 
I'm  glad  to  see  you  again.  You  had  a  sun-bonnet 
on  the  other  time  I  saw  you,  so  I  couldn't  see 
your  face  very  well.  Then  you  had  a  blue  dress 
on  that  day  and  to-day  you  have  a  brown  one." 
The  two  shook  hands. 

"I've  been  wondering  what  became  of  you," 
Jessie  replied  complaisantly.  "Are  you  working 
at  the  mill?" 

"Yes.  How  do  you  happen  to  be  up  here?" 
he  inquired  wonderingly. 

"How  do  I  happen  to  be  up  here?"  she  re 
peated  with  amusement.  "Because  I  live  up  here; 
because  I  was  born  and  raised  up  here.  That's 
how  I  happen  to  be  up  here."  She  laughed.  "Do 
you  see  that  white  house  up  on  the  hill?  That's 
where  I  live.  I  hope  you're  not  staying  in  those 
horrid  old  cabins."  Jessie  had  concluded  from 
seeing  him  start  down  the  path  into  the  ravine 
that  he  must  be  living  in  the  desolate  cabins. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "I  am.  There  was  no  room 
in  the  better  cabins  for  me  unless  I  went  in  with 
some  one  else,  and  I  preferred  to  come  here  rather 
than  associate  with  a  stranger." 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  EEDWOODS         95 

"We  have  some  better  ones  than  these;  per 
haps  father  will  let  you  have  one,  if  you  don't 
mind  walking  up  the  hill." 

"I  should  like  it  very  much  if  he  would,"  he 
responded  eagerly.  "It's  lonely  down  in  here  at 
night,  and  besides  Casey,  my  only  companion,  tells 
me  that  he  is  going  away  in  a  few  days.  Then  I 
would  be  alone;  I  hate  the  thoughts  of  it.  So  if 
your  father  will  let  me  come  up  there  I'll  feel  very 
thankful." 

"Well,  I'll  ask  him,"  Jessie  added  kindly.  She 
felt  sorry  for  this  unfortunate  boy  who  had  no 
home.  "I  know  he  will." 

"When  did  you  get  home?"  he  asked. 

"Two  days  ago.  I  stayed  longer  than  I  ex 
pected;  sister  was  sick  and  wouldn't  let  me  come 
away  any  sooner.  I'm  glad  to  get  home  though; 
I  feel  safer  here  than  down  there  where  sister 
lives." 

"Why  so?" 

"Well,  there  ain't  so  much  danger  of  tramps 
up  here." 

"Don't  tramps  ever  bother  you  up  there?" 

"Don't  you  worry  about  a  tramp  ever  walking 
up  a  hill  like  this  one.  Sometimes  they  come  this 
far,  but  they  don't  like  to  go  any  further.  There's 
only  one  thing  that  would  ever  take  a  tramp  up 
this  hill.  I've  dreaded  it  all  my  life." 

"What's  that?" 

"Why,  if  he  was  starving  to  death  and  there 
was  no  other  house  in  sight,  he'd  come  up." 


96  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

"You've  got  some  pretty  flowers.  What  are 
they?" 

"They  are  wild  iris;  it's  getting  late  for  them 
now,  but  I  can  always  find  them  if  anybody  can." 

Jessie  held  the  flowers  upright  for  admiration.  *  *  I 
must  hurry  home  now  and  help  granny  get  supper. 
You  must  come  up  and  see  us." 

"All  right.  I'll  come  up  to-morrow.  I  have 
nothing  to  do  on  Sunday." 

Jessie  started  up  the  steep  hill.  "Good-bye," 
she  said.  "Come  to-morrow  and  stay  to  dinner." 

"Good-bye,"  Bill  answered,  as  he  turned  down 
into  the  ravine.  It  had  done  him  good  to  have 
another  little  chat  with  Jessie.  She  was  so  pleas 
ant  and  friendly  and  spoke  in  such  a  quaint,  inter 
esting  manner. 

Jessie  Anderson  was  a  girl  of  medium  height, 
with  a  sweet,  ruddy,  oval-shaped  face  and  large 
gray  eyes  with  long  lashes.  She  had  thick,  wavy, 
light-colored  hair,  which  she  usually  wore  in  two 
braids  which  hung  nearly  to  her  waist.  Every  one 
who  knew  Jessie  always  loved  her  for  her  sweet 
kindly  disposition  and  her  pure  character. 

She  was  only  a  young  girl — barely  fifteen — but 
she  was  a  splendid  worker.  Perhaps  she  did  not 
do  quite  as  much  as  she  sometimes  imagined,  but 
nevertheless  she  was  a  great  worker.  She,  to 
gether  with  her  grandmother — her  only  woman 
companion — kept  house  for  her  father  and  what 
ever  additional  guests  might  come  to  the  mountain 
home. 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS         97 

Jessie  would  always  rise  early,  go  about  her 
work  cheerfully,  without  any  compulsion  from 
any  one;  she  knew  what  to  do  and  she  always  did 
it.  There  was  never  any  fooling  about  her,  either, 
when  there  was  work  to  be  done;  after  which  she 
was  always  ready  for  a  frolic,  or  a  long  walk 
through  the  woods,  where  she  loved  to  gather 
woodland  flowers  and  dainty,  green  ferns.  Jessie 
was  always  happy;  she  liked  company;  she  liked 
somebody  to  talk  to ;  but  if  there  was  no  one 
around,  she  would  be  just  as  happy  alone. 
Although  she  had  but  few  companions,  she  was 
never  lonely  and  always  could  find  something  to 
occupy  her  time. 

Jessie  had  lived  all  her  life  in  the  mountains 
and  dearly  loved  her  home ;  she  seldom  left  it,  and 
when  she  did  it  was  only  in  cases  of  necessity. 
Her  mother  had  died  when  she  was  but  a  small  girl, 
and  then  the  grandmother  had  taken  the  mother's 
place  and  had  done  her  best  for  her  son"s  child. 
The  grandmother  was  very  hard  of  hearing.  So  it 
need  not  be  wondered  at  if  Jessie  had  a  few  ideas 
of  her  own,  and  managed  things  in  her  own  way. 
Her  education  up  to  this  period  consisted  of  a 
common  country-school  training.  She  had  just 
graduated  at  the  close  of  the  previous  school  term. 
The  school  lacked  in  many  ways;  the  teacher 
usually  being  young  and  inexperienced.  But 
through  it  all  Jessie  was  bright  and  she  managed 
to  get  a  fairly  good  education. 

Above  all  things  Jessie  was  quick;  she  was  like 


98  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

the  mother  in  this  respect,  her  father  being  slow. 
Whatever  Jessie  did  she  did  quickly,  in  order  that 
she  might  have  it  over  with  as  soon  as  possible 
and  get  ready  for  the  next  thing.  She  usually 
spoke  in  a  quick  way,  using  as  few  words  as 
possible. 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS          99 


VIII. 
A  MOUNTAIN  VINEYARD. 

Sunday  morning,  according  to  agreement,  Bill 
started  up  the  steep  ascent  of  the  vineyard  to  visit 
Jessie  in  her  mountain  home.  Several  times  he 
paused  to  admire  the  beautiful  scenery  of  the 
Santa  Cruz  Mountains,  which  grew  in  grandeur  the 
higher  he  climbed. 

It  was  just  twelve  as  he  entered  the  gateway, 
or,  rather,  opening  between  the  blackberry  briars 
that  grew  by  the  roadside,  and  walked  toward  tHe 
house.  The  roadway,  after  entering  the  vineyard, 
had  been,  for  a  considerable  distance,  hewn  from 
the  hillside,  leaving  at  the  right  a  steep  emuank- 
ment  eight  or  ten  feet  high;  at  the  left  was  a 
declivity.  On  this  latter  stood  the  winery,  a  two- 
story  building;  but  as  it  was  built  on  the  hillside, 
it  could  be  entered  from  above  or  below.  The 
road  branched  off  here;  the  lower  part  descending 
to  the  lower  door. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  roadway  stood  the 
barn,  a  small  two-story  structure,  with  the  steep 
hill  rising  abruptly  behind  it.  Beyond  the  barn 
a  short  way  stood  three  neat-looking,  white-washed 
cabins,  side  by  side.  These  cabins  were  used  by  the 


100  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

men  who  helped  gather  the  grapes  during  the 
vintage,  and  with  the  wine  making. 

Last,  stood  the  house,  facing  the  south.  It  was 
a  well-built,  two-story  structure,  with  a  wide 
veranda  on  the  south  side,  and  occupied  the  only 
flat  space  on  the  vineyards,  except  a  small  yard  space 
at  the  rear  and  some  ground  at  the  west  that 
Jessie  used  for  her  garden.  Beyond  this  the  hill 
descended  again,  very  abruptly,  almost  forming  a 
precipice.  In  front  of  the  house  the  hill  gradually 
sloped  downward  to  the  county  road,  and  was 
entirely  covered  with  grape-vines.  The  upper  hill 
side  was  also  planted  in  grapes  for  a  considerable 
distance.  They  were  known  as  the  upper  and 
lower  vineyards. 

As  the  youth  approached  the  house,  looking  from 
side  to  side  at  the  various  buildings,  Jessie,  who 
had  been  sitting  on  the  veranda  watching,  hurried 
across  the  yard  to -meet  him. 

"I'm  awfully  glad  to  see  you,"  she  said  smiling. 
"I'd  just  begun  to  think  you  weren't  coming." 

Bill  lifted  his  cap.  "I'm  glad  to  see  you,  too," 
he  replied  candidly.  "You've  got  a  nice  place 
here,  haven't  you?" 

"Yes;  but  come  over  to  the  house  and  1  will 
show  you  the  view;  it  is  the  finest  from  there. 
Father  built  the  house  just  where  he  would  get 
the  finest  view." 

Together  the  two  walked  toward  the  house  and 
ascended  the  stairs  to  the  porch.  Here,  Jessie 
offered  Bill  a  chair,  which  he  gladly  accepted. 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        101 

" Isn't  it  nice  up  here?" 

"It  certainly  is!  No  wonder  you  think  so  much 
of  your  home." 

As  the  young  fellow  sat  there,  he  looked  be 
yond  at  the  beautiful  view  that  lay  before  him. 
A  picture  of  mountain  ranges,  spurs  and  ridges 
with  their  lofty  peaks  which  they  wear  like  royal 
crowns;  all  trend,  some  higher,  some  lower,  in 
colors  of  blue  and  green,  silver  and  gold,  until 
they  disappear  in  the  distance  —  a  picture  of 
wooded  slopes  and  forests,  with  their  giant  trees 
or  their  pigmy  trees;  a  broad,  green  meadow  with 
a  ribbon-like  stretch  of  shrubs  hiding  some  moun 
tain  stream,  fields  of  waving  grain  or  checkered 
vineyards;  all  colored  in  deepest  of  shades  or 
softest  of  tints  betwixt  the  sunlight  and  shadows. 
To  add  to  this  marvelous  picture  of  Nature,  were 
mountain  homes  nestled  deeply  in  some  shaded 
valley  or  perched  aloft  on  a  distant  view-point, 
columns  of  curling  smoke  rising  heavenward ;  and 
a  flock  of  soaring  birds,  rising,  then  gently  falling, 
as  they  pursued  their  journey,  ever  alert  for  some 
signs  of  prey.  And  over  it  all  the  warm  sun 
shine  lay,  together  with  the  blue  haze,  the  dreamy 
summer  time,  and  with  the  clear,  azure  sky  above. 
It  was  a  picture  that  no  artist  could  ever  paint. 

''Would  you  like  to  live  here?"  Jessie  at  length 
asked  of  her  new-made  friend.  "I  think  father 
will  let  you  have  one  of  the  cabins  if  you'd  like 
to;  they're  a  lot  better  than  the  one  you've  got. 
He  says  he  wants  to  see  you  first,  though." 


102  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

"Yes,  I'll  come  if  he'll  let  me." 

"He's  coming  now,"  the  girl  added  as  she  heard 
some  one  opening  the  door. 

Bill  upon  looking  toward  the  door  saw  a  pleas 
ant-appearing  man  of  medium  height,  thick  set, 
and  with  iron-gray  hair  as  well  as  mustache  and 
chin-beard,  standing  in  the  doorway.  He  had  a 
pipe  in  his  mouth.  Bill  noticed  that  Mr.  Ander 
son  walked  with  a  slight  limp,  as  he  came  toward 
him  and  shook  hands  after  Jessie  introduced  the 
two  men. 

"Well,  I  will  go  in  now  and  help  granny  pre 
pare  dinner ;  then  you  shall  eat  with  us ;  after  that 
I  will  show  you  around."  Thus  Jessie  disappeared 
within  the  house. 

Mr.  Anderson  sat  down  beside  Bill  and  the  two 
men  talked  until  Jessie  returned  a  little  later  and 
summoned  them  to  dinner. 

"This  is  granny,"  ,she  said  softly  to  her  guest, 
as  an  elderly  Scotch  lady  came  into  the  room. 
"It's  no  use  to  talk  to  her;  she  can't  hear  very 
good;  and  father  don't  like  to  talk,  so  whatever 
you've  got  to  say,  you  may  as  well  say  it  to  me." 

The  grandmother  came  over  and  shook  hands 
with  him  and  smiled  kindly;  so  Bill  felt  all  he 
could  do  was  to  smile  in  return. 

Then  they  all  sat  down  and  disposed  of  a  dinner 
which  Bill  pronounced  the  best  he  had  eaten  for 
many  a  long  day,  for  the  food  at  the  mill  was 
coarse  and  roughly  prepared. 

After  dinner  the  happy  girl  escorted  her  friend 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        103 

out — to  show  him  her  garden.  "I  won't  bother  to 
show  you  the  house ;  boys  usually  don 't  like  houses ; 
so  come  out  and  I'll  show  you  my  garden,"  she 
said,  leading  the  way  into  the  yard,  with  Bill  fol 
lowing.  " Things  don't  do  so  very  well  up  here; 
we  have  so  little  water.  After  we  use  all  the  water 
that's  in  the  cistern,  we  have  to  wait  till  it  fills 
again,  and  it  takes  nearly  all  day — in  the  summer 
time."  Jessie  began  pointing.  "These  are  pansies. 
They  look  pretty  good,  though;  don't  you  think 
so?" 

"Why,  yes!  They  look  fine.  It  reminds  me  of  a 
pansy  bed  mother  and  I  used  to  have  back  home." 

"Here  by  the  house  are  some  geraniums  and  a 
few  roses.  Now,  come  over  here  and  see  my  vege 
tables.  I  have  lettuce,  onions,  carrots,  beets,  and 
over  there  are  cabbages."  The  girl  pointed  at  the 
various  articles  of  vegetation  as  she  spoke. 

"It  must  keep  you  busy  with  all  these  things, 
besides  your  house  work?" 

"Yes,  I'm  busy  all  the  time.  Some  people  ask 
me  what  I  do  up  here  to  kill  time.  Well,  I  just 
wish  they'd  try  it  a  while." 

"Over  there  are  peas,  beans  and  potatoes.  Fa 
ther  cares  for  those.  We  get  all  we  need,  anyway. 
Now  come  around  in  back  of  the  house;  I've  got 
something  there  that  I  know  you'll  like.  Do  you 
like  rabbits?" 

"Yes,  I  always  liked  rabbits.  I  used  to  have 
some  when  I  was  at  home,"  he  replied,  sadly. 

Thus  he  followed  Jessie  to  the  back  yard,  where 


]04  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

she  showed  him  her  snowy-white,  pink-eared  rab 
bits. 

"Those  are  the  chickens  over  there.  I  have  ten; 
they  lay  what  eggs  we  need.  Now  come  over,  and 
I'll  show  you  the  winery." 

"Have  you  a  dog?"  Bill  asked,  eagerly. 

"My  dog  died!  Just  before  I  went  away.  I  felt 
terrible;  we  used  to  have  such  good  times,  romp 
ing  through  the  woods  together.  Father's  going 
to  get  me  another  as  soon  as  it  gets  a  little  older. 
I've  a  cat,  though.  'Tim,'  I  call  him.  I  have  to 
console  myself  with  Tim,  for  the  time  being.  These 
are  the  cabins,"  she  added,  as  they  passed  them. 
"We  use  them  when  the  men  are  here  picking  the 
grapes  and  making  wine.  We  used  to  have  board 
ers,  and  sometimes,  when  the  house  was  full,  we 
put  some  in  the  cabins." 

"Don't  you  have  boarders  any  more?"  Bill 
asked,  for  want  of  something  to  say. 

"Not  many,"  Jessie  replied.  "They  were  too 
much  trouble ;  nothing  suited  them.  The  beds  were 
too  hard;  the  cooking  didn't  suit  them;  there  was 
too  much  pepper  in  the  soup  for  some,  and  not 
enough  for  others;  and  the  hill — they  nearly  DIED 
climbing  up  the  hill.  I  can't  think  of  all  the  things 
now,  though.  Father  finally  said  he  wouldn't  have 
another  one  on  the  place." 

Meanwhile  they  had  reached  the  winery,  and 
after  Jessie  opened  the  upper  door,  both  entered. 

"Now,  you  see,"  Jessie  began,  in  a  businesslike 
manner,  "these  are  the  presses.  They  put  the 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        105 

grapes  into  them,  where  they  are  pressed,  and  the 
juice  runs  out  here  at  the  bottom  and  goes  through 
these  troughs  into  the  vats,  which  are  downstairs. 
Come  over  here ;  the  stairs  are  at  the  other  end. ' ' 

Bill  followed  Jessie  across  the  floor  and  down  the 
stairs  into  the  lower  part  of  the  winery,  where  the 
large  vats  were. 

"These,  you  see,  are  the  vats  where  the  juice 
goes  and  is  left  to  ferment."  The  girl  pointed 
toward  the  huge  vats,  in  her  eagerness  to  please  her 
guest.  Over  here  is  the  cellar.  When  father  came 
there  was  a  cave  here;  so  he  built  the  winery  over 
it,  and  made  the  cave  a  little  larger,  and  it  makes  a 
fine  cellar." 

She  walked  over  to  the  cellar  door,  opened  it 
and  stepped  inside.  Bill  stood  at  the  doorway,  and 
looked  in  at  the  rows  of  wine  kegs  that  finally  dis 
appeared  in  the  darkness. 

"Would  you  like  to  try  a  little  of  our  wine?" 
Jessie  asked,  courteously,  as  she  picked  up  a  small 
glass  from  the  top  of  the  wine-keg. 

"I — I  don't  believe  I  care  for  any,"  he  stam 
mered,  stepping  backward. 

"Why  not?  It's  all  right.  None  better  any 
where."  Whenever  any  one  refused  to  take  wine 
which  Jessie  offered,  she  imagined  that  it  was  be 
cause  they  were  doubtful  of  its  wholesomeness. 

"I  know  that,"  he  replied,  kindly,  "but  it's  be 
cause  I — I  promised  my  mother  before  she  died 
that  I'd  never  taste  a  drop  of  liquor,"  Bill  had 


106  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

broken  one  promise,  but  he  was  determined  not  to 
break  another. 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Jessie,  horrified.  "This  isn't 
liquor!  It  has  to  be  shipped  away  to  the  cities  and 
put  into  bottles  before  it  becomes  liquor!  We 
wouldn't  keep  a  drop  of  liquor  on  the  place!  Have 
some?"  she  again  inquired,  looking  up  at  Bill,  as 
she  stooped  before  the  keg,  with  her  right  hand 
holding  the  faucet  and  with  her  left  holding  the 
glass  under  the  spout. 

"I  guess  I'd  better  not  take  any,  Jessie.  Thank 
you — just  the  same. ' ' 

"Well,  then,  if  you  don't  mind,  I'll  just  take 
a  little  for  myself."  Jessie  helped  herself  to  a 
small  portion  of  wine  in  the  glajss  and  then  dis 
posed  of  it.  "I  don't  take  very  much  at  a 
time,  for  some  days  I  have  more  than  one  caller; 
and  if  I  had  to  drink  a  glass  full  with  each  one, 
it  would  be  too  much  for  me." 

"I  suppose  what  little  you  took  couldn't  hurt 
you,"  softly  commented  the  youth. 

"Never  has  yet,"  she  replied  decidedly,  as  she 
closed  the  cellar-door.  "Are  you  ready  to  go  now? 
I  suppose  you've  seen  everything  you  want  to." 

"All  right,  we'll  go." 

So  they  went  upstairs  again. 

"I  wonder  who  shut  the  door!'  Jessie  cried 
surprisingly,  as  she  reached  the  top  of  the  stairs. 
"I  wondered  what  made  it  so  dark!" 

They  went  across  to  the  door.  Jessie  took  hold 
to  open  it;  the  door  was  fast. 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFOENIA  REDWOODS        107 

"It's  locked!"  she  gasped.  "I  believe  father 
locked  it,  not  knowing  we  were  in  here.  It's 
funny,  too,  for  he  seldom  locks  it  only  at  night. 
How  shall  we  get  out?" 

"Can't  we  get  out  the  door  downstairs?" 

"No,  that's  always  locked." 

"Can't  I  get  out  one  of  those  windows  down 
stairs?"  The  windows  were  all  on  the  south  side 
— both  up  and  down  stairs. 

"No,  you'll  fall  down  the  hill  and  be  killed  if 
you  try  that."  She  sat  down  on  an  empty  wine- 
keg  as  if  resigned  to  her  fate.  "Fancy  being 
locked  up  here  for  a  week." 

"A  week!" 

"Yes,  a  man  once  was.  We  were  all  away 
but  father,  and  he  was  coming  to  stay  a  week 
with  us  and  then  bring  us  home.  Just  before  he 
locked  the  winery  the  man  went  down  to  get  a 
drink  without  asking  father.  Then  father  went 
away  and  when  he  came  back  the  man  was  still 
locked  up.  Father  said  he  guessed  the  man  didn't 
care  much ;  he  -said  there  was  nothing  in  the  world 
the  man  liked  so  well  as  wine." 

For  a  few  moments  all  was  silent,  while  both 
thought  diligently  for  some  means  of  egress. 

"Where  are  all  my  plans?"  Jessie  suddenly  ex 
claimed. 

"Your  plans?" 

"Yes.  I  always  form  plans  for  what  I  will  do 
ahead,  so  that  when  the  proper  time  comes  I  won't 
have  to  stop  and  think ;  it  takes  up  too  much 


108  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

time.  I  have  a  plan  if  the  saw-mill  should  burn — 
father  says  it's  bound  to  some  day,  the  men  are  all 
so  careless.  I  have  a  plan  if  father  should  have 
heart-failure — he's  bound  to  some  day,  all  his 
family  have  died  with  it." 

"What  is  your  plan?"  Bill  inquired  curiously. 

"You  wait  till  the  proper  time  comes  and 
you'll  see." 

"Would  you  go  for  a  doctor?" 

"No,  indeed!  I  tried  that  once  and  I'll  never 
do  it  again.  Once  granny  got  a  fish-bone  stuck 
in  her  throat.  I  did  everything  I  could  think  of — 
I  hammered  on  her  back;  I  tried  to  reach  down 
her  throat  and  get  it  out — but  no  use,  she  just 
kept  coughing,  till  I  thought  she  would  die.  Then 
I  started  to  run,  down  the  hill  as  fast  as  I  could 
go — to  the  station;  there  I  got  a  man  to  telephone 
for  a  doctor.  After  that  I  ran  home  again,  not 
knowing  whether  I'd  find  her  dead  or  alive.  When 
I  got  back,  here  was  granny  peacefully  seated  on 
the  front  porch,  crocheting.  She'd  got  it  out 
while  I  was  gone.  Oh,  but  I  was  mad!" 

"Well,  you  did  what  you  thought  was  for  the 
best.  That's  all  anybody  could  do." 

"Yes,"  she  responded  softly.  "But  that  wasn't 
all.  That  night  after  we  had  all  gone  to  bed,  I 
heard  some  one  knocking  down  stairs.  I  jumped 
out  of  bed  and  went  to  the  window  and  asked 
who  was  there.  It  was  the  doctor  just  arriving. 
I  told  him  granny  was  all  right;  that  he  needn't 
stay;  but  if  you  please  he  wanted  to  be  paid  just 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        109 

the  same,  so  I  had  to  go  and  wake  father.  Then 
it  was  father 's  turn  to  get  mad ;  it  took  nearly 
all  the  money  we  had  on  hand.  I  couldn't  help 
it.  What  would  you  have  done  if  you'd  been 
there?" 

"It's  hard  to  say,  Jessie,"  he  added  solemnly. 
"It  seems  whatever  we  do  in  such  cases,  we  do 
wrong."  Bill  wondered  if  he  had  done  wrong 
in  leaving  as  he  did;  or  should  he  have  remained 
and  suffered  the  consequences. 

"Well,"  Jessie  continued,  "I'll  never  run  for  a 
doctor  again;  no  matter  what  happens.  Can't 
you  think  of  some  way  out?" 

"I  don't  think  of  any;  unless  I  could  get  out 
one  of  the  windows." 

"But  you  can't.  Then  again  both  were  silent 
for  a  few  moments. 

"Oh,  now  I  have  a  plan!"  Jessie  suddenly  ex 
claimed,  jumping  off  from  the  keg. 

"What  is  it?" 

"Back  in  the  far  corner,  up  in  the  roof,  is  a 
hole;  there  is  a  chute  comes  down  from  the  upper 
vineyard  in  which  they  slide  the  grapes  down. 
You  climb  up  there  and  call  to  father.  Perhaps 
he'll  hear." 

"All  right!"  The  excited  youth  hurried  toward 
the  corner  indicated  and  started  climbing  the 
ladder  to  the  hole  in  the  roof.  "If  I  can't  make 
him  hear,  I'll  climb  up  the  chute  to  the  hill,"  he 
called  back  to  Jessie. 


110  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

"No,  you  can't  do  that!  They  take  the  chute 
away  when  it  isn't  in  use;  it's  in  the  way." 

Bill  reached  the  top  of  the  ladder,  stuck  his 
head  out  of  the  hole  in  the  roof  and  called  several 
times,  but  no  one  responded.  "I'm  afraid  it's  no 
use,"  he  at  length  called  down. 

"Well,  come  down,  then,"  Jessie  replied  dis 
appointedly.  "We'll  just  have  to  wait  till  father 
comes." 

After  calling  again  a  few  times,  Bill  gave  it  up 
as  a  bad  job  and  descended  to  the  floor  again  —  to 
find  the  door  standing  wide  open  and  Jessie  in 
the  doorway  laughing  "fit  to  kill."  When  she 
could  control  herself  she  said: 

"I  thought  I'd  try  it  again  and  it  came  open 
as  easy  as  could  be.  I  wonder  what  could  have 
been  the  matter  with  it  before?" 

"That's  funny,"  Bill  said  smilingly.  "I've 
known  doors  and  windows  to  act  just  that  same 
way  before.  Let's  go  out  while  we've  got  the 
chance." 

Thus  they  went  out  into  the  sunshine  again  and 
walked  toward  the  house. 

"Come  over  and  see  Dolly,"  Jessie  said,  leading 
the  way  to  the  barn,  where  she  opened  the  door 
and  both  entered.  There  stood  Dolly,  a  small, 
sorrel  mare,  nibbling  on  a  few  straws  of  hay. 
Jessie  went  over  and  patted  her  on  the  neck. 
Dolly  whinnied,  for,  horse-like,  she  was  always  glad 
to  receive  a  little  attention. 

I    think    you've    seen    everything    now,"    the 


" 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        111 

hostess  remarked  pleasantly,  after  they  were  again 
out  of  doors,  "  unless  we  go  to  the  top  of  the 
upper  vineyard.  From  there  you  can  see  all  over 
everywhere,  even  to  the  Monterey  Bay,  and  at 
night  we  can  see  the  lights  of  the  Casino.  I 
guess  it's  too  warm  to  go  up  there  to-day." 

"Yes,  I  think  so,  too." 

"If  you  come  up  to  stay,  we'll  go  up  some 
evening,  so  we  can  see  the  lights.  I've  wanted  to 
for  a  long  while,  but  I  don't  have  anybody  to  go 
with." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  porch  of  the 
house  and  Bill  sat  down  to  again  admire  the 
beautiful  picture  before  him,  while  Jessie  retired 
into  the  house.  A  little  later  she  returned  and 
selecting  a  chair  sat  down. 

"Father  says  you  may  come  up  here  and  live 
in  one  of  the  cabins  if  you  wish.  He  says  you 
look  all  right.  He's  going  away  in  a  few  days  to 
help  a  friend  build  a  house,  and  won't  be  here  at 
night,  so  he'd  be  glad  to  have  man  on  the  place, 
so  granny  and  I  won't  be  alone.  I'm  not  afraid 
though." 

"Yes,  I  think  111  come,"  Bill  responded  cheer 
fully.  "Casey  said  he  was  going  away  in  a  few 
days  and  then  I  would  be  left  alone.  I  wouldn't 
like  that;  it's  so  lonesome  down  there  in  that  ra 
vine  at  night.  How  much  does  your  father  want?" 

"Oh,  he  won't  ask  you  very  much.  You  can 
go  inside  and  ask  him  if  you  want  to.  He's  in 
there  reading." 


112  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

Gladly  the  youth  hurried  into  the  house,  and 
after  conversing  with  Mr.  Anderson  for  a  few 
minutes  returned  and  joyfully  said: 

"I'm  coming.  Your  father  says  he'll  be  glad 
to  have  me,  and  I  know  I'll  like  It  better  than 
down  below.  I  think  I'll  bring  my  things  up 
to-morrow  evening  after  I  am  through  work." 

"I'm  iso  glad!"  Jessie  clapped  her  hands  for 
joy.  "I'll  have  some  one  to  talk  to.  Father 
won't  listen  to  me,  and  granny  can't  hear;  so  I 
never  have  anybody  to  talk  to." 

"Now  I  think  I  shall  go.  I've  enjoyed  every 
thing  so  much,"  Bill  said,  complaisantly  moving 
toward  the  steps.  "Night  is  coming  on." 

Jessie  walked  with  him  to  the  gateway,  where 
they  parted,  :she  returning  to  her  home.  The 
youth  continued  down  the  steep  road  through  the 
fast  lengthening  shadows,  feeling  happier,  by  far, 
than  he  had  for  many  a  long  day.  Often  in  his 
joy  would  he  pause  to  gaze  at  the  distant  ridges 
bathed  with  the  rosy  glow  of  sunset,  contrasted 
with  the  deep  shadows  of  the  lowlands,  like 
tinted  clouds.  As  he  watched,  the  light  grew 
fainter  and  fainter,  as  the  shadows  crept  up  the 
mountainside,  until  all  the  sunlight  had  dis 
appeared,  and  only  the  feeble  twilight  remained. 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  EEDWOODS        113 


IX. 

A  NEW  HOME. 

The  following  evening,  after  his  day's  work  was 
done,  Bill  went  to  the  lonely  cabin  where  he 
gathered  his  few  earthly  belongings  and  started 
for  his  new  home  at  the  vineyard,  hoping  that 
there  his  life  would  be  a  little  more  cheerful.  It 
was  always  "poor  Tom"  wherever  he  went  though; 
there  was  no  rest  from  that.  The  thoughts  of 
"poor  Tom"  and  his  "awful  mistake"  would  ring 
in  his  ears  as  long  as  he  lived. 

By  living  at  the  vineyard  it  would  be  a  little 
further  to  walk  to  and  from  work;  but  then  Bill 
did  not  mind  that,  for  by  so  doing  he  would  have 
company  in  the  evenings — some  one  to  talk  to — 
for  that  was  the  hardest  time  of  all.  During  the 
day  he  was  busy  and  had  his  mind  on  his  work, 
and  after  retiring  he  was  fatigued  with  his  day's 
labor  and  would  usually  soon  fall  asleep  and 
have  a  good  night's  rest.  Again  he  would  have 
a  better  room  and  bed  as  well  as  more  wholesome 
food,  for  the  meal  prepared  by  Jessie  and  her 
grandmother  was  far  better  than  the  rough  saw 
mill  fare.  After  this  he  would  have  only  to  take 
his  noon  meal  there. 


114  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

So  with  these  thoughts  it  was  with  a  cheerful 
heart  that  Bill  went,  softly  and  whistling,  up  the 
hill  to  his  new  home. 

Jessie  was  sitting  on  the  veranda  reading  when 
her  guest  approached.  "So  you've  come;  I'm  so 
glad,"  she  said,  as  he  came  up  the  stairs. 

"Yes.  And  I'm  real  glad,  too.  It  was  lone 
some  down  there,  and  when  Casey  goes — he's 
stopped  already — I  don't  believe  I  could  have 
stood  it  alone." 

"Put  your  things  on  the  porch  and  sit  do\\n," 
Jessie  continued  kindly.  "After  a  little  I'll  show 
you  to  your  room.  I've  been  waiting  here  for 
father;  he  went  to  town  to  get  some  things  we 
need." 

The  youth  placed  his  traveling  case  on  the 
porch  and  sat  down.  "What  are  you  reading?" 
he  asked  courteously. 

"This  is  one  of  my  school-books — 'Evangeline.' 
I  always  liked  it.  Did  you  ever  study  it?" 

"Yes,  I  did  and  I  always  enjoyed  it;  it's  such 
a  pretty  story.  Do  you  go  to  school  any  more?" 

"No,  I  finished  our  school  last  year  and  I 
can't  go  any  more  unless  I  go  away  from  home. 
I  can't  do  that;  I'm  needed  here." 

"Have  you  a  good  school  up  here?" 

"The  school's  all  right,  but  it's  the  teachers," 
the  girl  rattled  along.  "They  send  us  the  poorest 
teachers  they  can  find.  They  simply  don't  know 
anything.  They  lay  everything  to  'inexperience/ 
but  I  know  better;  it's  just  because  they  don't 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        115 

know  anything.  Why,  the  last  one  we  had  was 
worse  than  any  of  'em.  Why,  she  didn't  even 
know  which  end  of  a  pencil  to  write  with.  I  took 
my  paper  up  the  first  morning  she  was  there  for 
her  to  mark,  and,  if  you  please,  she  picked  up  her 
pencil  and  tried  to  write  with  the  wrong  end. 
Then  I  .said  as  nicely  and  politely  as  I  could,  of 
course:  'You'd  better  turn  that  thing  up  the 
other  way  if  you  want  to  write  with  it.'  Then 
she  began  shaking  all  over  and  said  she  didn't 
know  what  she  was  doing;  so  I  finally  had  to 
mark  my  paper  myself.  It  was  all  right  anyhow. 
They've  always  got  some  way  out  of  everything 
though.  Anyhow  we  got  her  so  she  did  pretty  good 
by  the  end  of  the  year;  now  she's  goin'  to  teach 
somewhere  down  in  Santa  Cruz  this  coming  term." 

While  they  sat  there  talking  the  sun  was  sink 
ing  to  its  rest.  The  two  watched  it  as  it  sank 
lower  and  lower,  behind  the  distant  tree-tops  on 
a  neighboring  ridge.  The  last  fading  rays  flooded 
the  mountain-tops;  the  canyons  were  in  deep 
shadow.  The  golden  beams  shone  through  the 
trees  like  long,  slender  fingers  pointing  hither  and 
thither  on  the  mountain-sides  to  the  different  things 
of  beauty.  Then  as  the  sun  sank  lower,  only  the 
highest  peaks  were  flooded  with  light.  In  an 
other  moment  it  was  gone ;  only  the  distant  sequoias 
remained  silhouetted  against  the  roseate  sky  where 
it  had  so  lately  been.  Night  was  coming  on  with 
its  deeper  shadows. 

''Now     it's     gone!"    Jessie     exclaimed.       "And 


116  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

father  is  coming;  I  can  see  him  below  just  turning 
up  the  hill.  Come,  let's  go  and  meet  him." 

The  young  people  rose  from  their  places  and 
leaving  the  veranda  started  across  the  yard  to 
meet  Mr.  Anderson,  who  soon  drove  into  the 
vineyard,  stopping  at  the  barn. 

"Father,  did  you  get  everything?  Did  you  get 
coffee?  I  forgot  to  tell  you  we  were  nearly  out," 
said  Jessie  eagerly,  also  stepping  up  to  Dolly  and 
petting  her  on  the  nose.  "Well,  Dolly,  are  you 
glad  to  get  home?" 

Dolly  whinnied  her  approval. 

"Yes,"  her  father  replied  indifferently.  "I 
brought  coffee  and  all  the  rest  of  the  things  you 
wanted,  Your  grandmother  gave  me  a  list  of  what 
was  needed.  You  can  get  Bill  to  help  you  take 
the  things  out  of  the  wagon  and  carry  them  into 
the  house." 

"All  right,  Mr.  Anderson,  we'll  get  the  things 
out,"  Bill  replied,  willingly  advancing  toward  the 
wagon.  Soon  he,  assisted  by  Jessie,  removed  the 
packages  from  the  wagon,  while  Mr.  Anderson  un 
harnessed  the  horse,  after  which  they  carried  the 
supplies  into  the  house. 

"Now  come,"  Jessie  said,  after  everything  had 
been  put  away.  "I'll  show  you  where  you're 
going  to  sleep." 

"I'll  go  and  get  my  things  from  the  porch; 
then  you  can  show  me,"  Bill  called,  as  he  hurried 
away  toward  the  front  of  the  house.  A  few  mo 
ments  later  he  came  back,  bringing  his  luggage, 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        117 

and  went  toward  the  cabins,  where  Jessie  was 
awaiting  him. 

"The  last  one,  I'm  going  to  give  you,"  she  said, 
as  her  companion  approached.  So,  taking  a  key 
from  her  pocket  as  she  walked  up  the  steps,  she 
unlocked  the  door.  "I've  got  everything  ready 
for  you.  I  spent  all  morning  cleaning  and  sunning 
the  bedding,  so  that  everything  would  be  nice 
when  you  came."  With  that  she  opened  the  door 
and  displayed  a  small,  neat  bed-room. 

"You've  a  good  bed,  a  chair,  a  place  over  there 
to  put  your  clothes,  and  a  place  to  wash.  If  you 
need  anything  else,  just  let  me  know." 

Bill  entered.  "This  is  fine!"  he  said  cheer 
fully.  "I  know  I'll  be  much  happier  here  than  I 
was  down  in  that  lonely  ravine." 

"I  suppose,"  Jessie  added,  hesitatingly,  "that 
before  I  go  I  may  as  well  tell  you. ' '  Here  the  girl 
paused. 

"Tell  me  what?"  he  asked,  not  knowing  what 
to  expect. 

"This  is  the  one  where  the  murder  was,"  she  at 
length  added,  sheepishly.  "I  thought  you'd  like 
it;  boys  usually  like  those  things  better  than  girls. 
It's  nice  to  have  something  like  that  to  think 
about — nights — when  you  can't  sleep.  See!  There's 
some  of  the  blood  over  there  on  the  wall.  It  isn't 
really  blood;  it's  only  where  people  have  splashed 
the  water  when  they  were  washing,  but  you  can 
imagine  that  it's  blood — if  you  want  to." 

Bill  shivered  at  this  horrible  information. 


118  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

"Don't,  Jessie,"  he  coaxed,  nervously.  ''I'd 
rather  you  hadn't  told  me  that." 

Bill  considered  that  he  already  had  enough  to 
think  about  nights  in  the  murder  line. 

"I  must  go  now,"  Jessie  said,  fearing  she  had 
better  not  have  spoken,  as  she  turned  and  went 
down  the  stairs.  "Good  night." 

"Good  night,  Jessie." 

In  spite  of  being  in  the  murderer's  cabin,  Bill 
felt  happier  in  his  new  home ;  but  he  did  wish  that 
Jessie  had  not  told  him  that  awful  news. 

After  the  youth  had  been  at  the  vineyard  for  a 
few  days,  Jessie  came  up  to  him  one  evening,  and 
said:  "Father  says  he'll  take  us  to  Santa  Cruz 
on  the  Fourth  of  July,  if  we  want  to  go.  Today 
is  the  first,  you  know.  You'll  have  a  holiday  on 
the  Fourth.  Would  you  like  to  go?" 

"I — I  don't  believe  I  really  care  to  go.  I'd  al 
ready  planned  on  going  fishing."  Bill  had  a  rea 
son  of  his  own  for  not  wanting  to  appear  in  Santa 
Cruz. 

"Well,  then,  we  won't  go,"  she  replied,  with 
satisfaction.  "You  must  be  just  like  I  am;  you 
hate  to  leave  these  beautiful  mountains." 

"Yes,  I  do  like  it  here,"  he  answered,  much  re 
lieved.  "But  you  needn't  stay  home  on  my 
account,  if  you'd  like  to  go." 

"I  know.  I  don't  care  much  about  going,  any 
how.  I  don't  like  it  down  there;  there's  too 
many  people  to  suit  me.  I  can't  move  but  what 
I  bump  into  somebody,  and  they  always  scowl  at 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        119 

me  as  though  it  was  my  fault  entirely.  Father 
says  I  ought  to  go  slower;  but  then  I'd  just  as 
soon  stay  up  here,  where  there's  plenty  of  room. 
I  tell  you  what  we'll  do.  You  can  go  fishing  in 
the  daytime,  then  in  the  evening  we'll  go  up 
through  the  upper  vineyard  to  the  top  of  the  moun 
tain,  and  from  there  we  can  see  the  lights  from 
the  Casino,  and  also  the  fireworks.  Won't  that  be 
nice?" 

"Can  you  really  see  the  fireworks,  so  far  away?" 

"Yes;  not  so  very  good,  though.  They  look 
small.  We'll  go  up  anyhow,  if  you  wish." 

"I'd  like  to  go.  We  can  go  before  dark,  so  we 
can  get  the  view.  It  would  be  much  finer  there 
than  it  is  here." 

"No  finer;  only  you  can  see  much  more.  You 
can  look  in  all  directions  up  there;  it's  one  of  the 
highest  mountains  in  this  ridge.  Yes,  we'll  go 
early;  I  want  to  see  the  sunset  from  there." 

So,  when  the  Fourth  came,  Bill  went  fishing,  the 
result  being  that  they  had  mountain  trout  for 
supper,  after  which  he  and  Jessie  started  to  climb 
the  mountain.  They  had  a  long,  steep  climb  up 
the  hill,  scrambling  among  the  grapevines  with 
Jessie  leading,  for  she  knew  the  way.  About  half 
way  up  the  slope  the  vineyard  ceased,  the  higher 
part  being  uncultivated.  It  was  too  rocky. 

"Hu-u-u!"  Jessie  paused,  out  of  breath.  "It's 
hard  work,"  she  said,  as  she  paused  for  a  mo 
ment's  spell.  "Now  we  can  see  the  water." 

Both  looked  toward  the  south  at  the  blue  water 


120  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

of  Monterey  Bay  for  a  few  moments.  Then  Jessie 
started  up  again. 

"Do  you  think  we'll  be  able  to  get  down  with 
out  trouble,  after  dark?"  Bill  cautioned. 

"Yes;  with  the  moonlight  we  can  get  down  all 
right,  but  if  it  was  a  dark  night,  it  would  never 
do  to  stay  till  after  dark.  I  thought  of  that  before 
I  asked  you.  I  hope  it  won't  be  foggy  tonight 
down  by  the  water;  it  is  sometimes.  It  would  be 
too  bad  after  all  our  trouble." 

"We'll  hope  it  won't." 

At  length  the  mountain  top  was  reached,  after 
much  exertion,  and  the  boy  and  girl  began  looking 
around  at  the  magnificent  panorama  that  encircled 
the  mount.  For  nowhere  in  the  world  does  the 
scenery  surpass  that  of  the  Santa  Cruz  Mountains. 

"The  sun  is  just  about  ready  to  set  now!"  Jessie 
exclaimed.  "Let  us  sit  down  and  watch  it." 

"Isn't  it  grand,  though?"  Bill  added,  as  he 
looked  beyond  at  the  light-flooded  ranges  with 
their  many  spurs  and  beautiful  trees,  and  then 
below  into  the  darkening  canyons. 

After  a  little  the  sun  had  gone  down,  and  the 
two  young  people  sat  there  talking  as  they  awaited 
the  darkness,  so  they  might  see  the  lights  and  fire 
works  from  the  Casino. 

"Do  you  see  over  there  where  that  smoke  is  ris 
ing?"  Jessie  asked,  pointing  toward  the  east. 

"Yes,  I  see  it." 

"Well,  a  friend  of  mine  lives  over  there.  Some 
times  I  go  over  and  stay  with  her  all  night;  then 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        121 

again  she  comes  and  stays  with  me.  We  have 
grand  times  together.  Her  name's  Adelaide  Mason. 
Oh,  but  I  think  Adelaide  is  such  a  pretty  name. 
If  I  had  the  naming  of  myself,  my  name  would 
surely  be  Adelaide.  She's  away  now;  she  won't  be 
back  till  school  opens.  She  has  to  go  one  more 
year. ' ' 

After  a  little  the  darkness  came  on  and  the 
lights  began  to  twinkle,  far  away  down  by  the 
water  front.  It  made  Bill  think  of  another  night 
when  he  had  watched  the  twinkling  lights  below 
him.  It  brought  it  all  back ;  he  began  to  think 
again  of  "poor  Tom"  and  how  it  had  all  hap 
pened. 

"Do  you  sing?"  A  sweet  voice  near  by  brought 
him  back  to  the  mountain-top. 

"N-not  exactly.  Sometimes  I  holler;  that's  as 
near  as  I  ever  come  to  singing.  Do  you  sing?" 

"A  little,"  Jessie  answered,  unaffectedly.  4<A 
few  songs  we  learned  at  school.  Shall  I  sing  for 
you?" 

"Yes,  go  ahead!"  he  said,  gladly.  "It  would 
be  nice." 

"Well,  all  right.     I'll  sing  'Hail  Columbia.'  " 

So  Jessie  began  singing,  and  her  sweet,  girlish 
voice  sounded  out  over  the  mountain-top.  Bill 
thought  he  had  never  heard  a  girl  sing  so  sweetly. 

"She  can  sing  far  better  than  any  of  the  girls  at 
the  Hi,"  he  thought,  as  he  sat  there  listening. 

At  last  the  song  came  to  an  end.    Jessie  ceased. 


122  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

"That's  fine!"  cried  Bill,  emphatically.  "You 
ou—  " 

"Now  wait!"  Jessie  interrupted,  abruptly.  "I'm 
not  through  yet.  I'm  going  to  sing  another.  Do 
you  like  ' America'?" 

"Why,  of  course;   everybody  likes  l America.'  " 

Again  the  young  girl  began  to  sing  in  her  clear, 
sweet  way;  and,  while  she  sang,  several  times  she 
pointed  to  where,  far,  far  away,  down  by  the 
Casino,  a  tiny  rocket  would  .shoot  through  the  air; 
then,  gracefully  curving,  would  burst  and  send 
forth  a  shower  of  red,  green  or  blue  as  the  case 
may  have  been. 

In  due  time  the  song  was  ended. 

"Now,  how  you  like  that?"  she  asked,  immedi 
ately  upon  finishing  her  song. 

"It's  fine!"  her  companion  exclaimed,  enthusi 
astically.  "Jessie,  you've  got  a  wonderful  voice. 
You  ought  to  go  to  the  city  and  have  your  voice 
cultivated.  You  could  make  lots  of  money  singing 
in  the  big  theaters  of  San  Francisco." 

"Sing  in  a  theater!"  She  was  amazed.  "Why, 
I  can't  even  speak  when  I  go  to  the  city — let  alone 
'sing'." 

For  a  while  they  watched  the  fireworks.  After 
they  ceased  the  two  arose  and  started  on  their 
downward  path.  The  feeble  light  of  the  new  moon 
proved  sufficient  to  enable  them  to  reach  the  house 
in  safety. 

"Haven't   we   had   a   nice   time?"   Jessie   asked, 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  EEDWOODS        123 

pleasantly,  as  she  climbed  the  stairs  of  the  front 
porch. 

"Yes,  I've  enjoyed  it." 

"Much  better  than  if  we'd  been  down  there 
bumping  into  everybody.  Haven't  we?" 

"Yes." 

"Good  night."     Thus  they  parted  for  the  night. 

A  few  days  later,  just  as  Bill  was  returning 
from  work  in  the  evening,  Jessie  came  running  to 
meet  him.  Just  by  the  winery  she  stopped  him, 
and  said:  "Somebody  came  today — a  young  man; 
he  drove  up  in  a  cart.  I  don't  like  him  a  bit.  He 
wants  to  stay  here;  says  he  came  up  here  for  a 
few  days'  rest.  At  first  I  told  him  that  he  couldn't 
stay;  then  he  showed  me  a  note  from  father  telling 
us  to  give  him  a  room  and  meals  for  a  few  days. 
So  I  just  had  to  let  him  stay.  He  says  his  name's 
Mr.  Miller.  Well,  I  just  won't  'Mr.'  HIM;  he's 
too  much  of  a  'kid.'  If  I  can't  find  out  his  other 
name,  I'll  just  call  him  'Miller'."  Jessie  was  very 
indignant  over  it  all. 

"I  suppose,"  Bill  answered,  thoughtfully,  "it 
must  be  all  right;  your  father  sent  him." 

"I've  put  him  in  the  first  cabin,  so  he  won't  be 
near  you,"  she  further  added.  "I  hope  he  won't 
turn  out  to  be  a  murderer." 

"A  murderer!"  Bill  gasped.  "Why,  Jessie,  what 
makes  you  say  such  awful  things?" 

"I  can't  help  it!  Whenever  a  stranger  comes 
here  I  always  find  myself  wondering  if  he  is  a  mur 
derer.  This  is  just  the  place  one  would  take  to — 


124  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

to  hide.     Nobody  would  ever  think  of  looking  up 
here." 

Bill  fairly  choked  at  this  information.  Jessie 
noticed  his  embarrassment. 

"Oh,  you  needn't  worry.  I  wouldn't  think  of 
such  a  thing  about  you.  You  don't  look  like  the 
murderin'  kind.  I  must  be  careful  what  I  say, 
though.  I  didn't  think  about  you  being  a  stranger; 
you've  been  here  so  long." 

"I— it's  all  right,"  Bill  managed  to  say. 

"Oh,  look!  He's  just  comin'  out  of  his  cabin 
now.  Come  over,  and  I'll  introduce  you." 

Bill  followed  Jessie  over  to  where  the  newcomer, 
a  young  man  wearing  a  sombrero-like  hat,  stood 
before  his  cabin  gazing  at  the  mountain  scenery. 
Jessie  introduced  the  young  men,  after  which  she 
retired  to  the  houso  to  help  her  grandmother  pre 
pare  supper.  Bill  talked  with  the  stranger  for  a 
few  minutes,  and  then  turned  toward  his  own  cabin 
to  wash  before  dining.  Thus  the  newcomer  was 
left  alone. 

Joseph  Miller,  or  Joe,  as  we  shall  call  him,  was  a 
young  man  of  medium  height,  quite  stout,  with 
light  hair,  blue  eyes  and  a  florid  complexion.  There 
was  one  other  thing  worthy  of  mention — a  small 
thing,  scarcely  noticeable;  but,  as  small  things 
often  become  large  things,  it  may  be  well  to  men 
tion.  It  was  a  sparse-looking  arrangement,  the 
same  color  of  his  hair;  it  was  on  his  upper  lip.  Joe 
was  something  of  an  egotist,  as  well  as  given  to 
exaggeration,  and  was  a  very,  very  brave  appear- 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        125 

ing  young  gentleman,  of  perhaps  twenty-two  years. 

The  next  evening  Jessie  was  at  the  bottom  of 
the  hill  waiting  for  Bill,  at  the  fork,  when  he 
came  from  work.  She  had  been  gathering  flowers 
that  afternoon,  and  as  she  waited  she  arranged  her 
bunch  of  California  poppies  in  a  satisfactory  ar 
rangement. 

"He  makes  me  tired!"  she  said,  as  Bill  ap 
proached. 

"Who?     Miller,  you  mean?" 

"Yes,  I  do!"  she  responded,  decidedly.  "He's 
got  altogether  too  much  to  say.  He  asked  me 
about  everything.  Who  comes,  and  who  goes.  He 
wanted  to  know  who  you  were,  and  why  you  were 
here;  and  how  long  you'd  been  here.  Then  he 
wanted  to  know  if  we  had  any  tramps  around  here. 
I  just  told  him,  'No!'  I'd  like  to  know  what  busi 
ness  it  is  of  his.  He  came  out  into  the  kitchen 
this  morning,  when  I  was  at  work,  and  I  asked 
him  what  he  wanted.  He  said  he  was  hungry,  and 
wanted  me  to  give  him  something  to  eat.  Now,  I 
don't  like  people  like  that.  I'm  willin'  that  they 
should  have  all  they  want  at  the  table,  but  I  don't 
like  to  have  them  coming  into  the  kitchen,  asking 
for  things." 

"Did  you  give  him  anything?" 

"Yes,  I  gave  him  a  piece  of  pie;  but  I  told  him 
out  plain  not  to  come  back  for  any  more." 

"Did  he  go  away  then?" 

"Yes,  he  went  away;  but  in  five  minutes  he  was 
back  again.  I  asked  him  what  he  wanted,  and  he 


126  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

said  he  didn't  know  what  to  do  with  himself.  'I 
wish  I  had  something  to  do.  It's  hard  to  kill  time 
up  here,  isn't  it?'  he  said.  Well,  I  just  told  him 
that  I  didn't  have  any  trouble  killing  time.  Then 
I  put  him  to  work;  I  took  him  out  on  the  back 
porch  and  put  him  to  work  shelling  peas.  In  five 
minutes  I  went  back  to  see  how  he  was  getting 
along,  and  he  was  gone.  He  had  shelled  exactly 
eleven — I  counted  the  pods,  so  I'd  know,  for  sure, 
just  what  to  tell  you.  Now,  I  know  how  to  get 
rid  of  him  if  he  bothers  me  again." 

"I  wonder  what  he's  here  for,  anyhow,"  Bill 
said,  curiously.  "I  talked  with  him  awhile  last 
evening,  and  he  seemed  displeased  about  some 
thing;  I  couldn't  make  out  just  what.  He  said 
he  hated  to  be  away  from  town  just  now,  every 
thing's  iso  lively  there." 

" Never  mind,  I'm  watching  him,"  Jessie  said, 
cautiously.  " There's  something  up.  I'll  find  out, 
though.  Father  must  know;  he  gave  him  permis 
sion  to  come.  Wait  till  father  comes  home;  per 
haps  he  can  tell  us." 

"When  will  your  father  be  back?" 

"Not  for  a  few  days;  he's  gone  to  help  a  friend 
build  a  house.  Maybe  it  will  be  a  week." 

"But  there  is  another  thing,"  she  continued, 
"that  I  don't  like.  This  morning  I  took  Joe  out 
and  showed  him  everything,  just  as  I  do  everybody 
else;  finally,  I  showed  him  the  winery,  and  there 
I  gave  him  a  glass  of  wine.  I  saw  my  mistake, 
though,  for  just  one  glass  was  enough  to  set  him 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        127 

talking  saucily.  This  afternoon,  just  as  I  was 
coming  out  to  go  for  a  walk,  I  caught  sight  of 
him  coming  out  of  the  winery.  I  asked  him  what 
he  was  doing,  and  he  said,  '  Nothing. '  But  I 
noticed  he  got  red  in  the  face — if  it  could  get  any 
redder.  The  truth  of  the  matter  was  he  had  been 
in  the  wine  cellar.  I  could  smell  it  on  his  breath. 
I  didn't  say  anything  more,  though,  but  I  just 
locked  the  door  and  put  the  key  in  my  pocket. 
I'll  fix  him." 

"I  hope  he  won't  cause  any  trouble,"  Bill  re 
plied,  doubtfully. 

''He  won't.  Don't  worry.  If  he  says  much  more 
I'll  say  something  as  well.  He  can't  get  the  best 
of  me." 

"It's  certainly  cheeky  for  him  to  help  himself 
to  wine." 

"Yes.  That's  one  trouble  we  always  had  with 
the  boarders;  they  would  get  into  the  wine — or 
out  of  it  would  sound  more  grammatical.  Then, 
if  father  would  say  anything,  they'd  tell  him  that 
that  was  what  they  came  for,  and  if  they  couldn't 
have  it  they'd  go  away.  So  he  had  to  let  'em 
have  it.  Once  a  woman  left  the  faucet  on,  and  an 
entire  keg  leaked  away.  Oh,  but  father  was  mad!" 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  Bill's  cabin,  and 
as  he  turned  to  enter,  Jessie  hurried  on  toward 
the  house. 


128  BILL'S   MISTAKE 


X. 

THE  ANARCHIST  SCARE. 

The  following  evening,  when  Bill  returned  from 
work,  Jessie  Avas  anxiously  awaiting  him  at  the 
gateway. 

"Something  has  happened,"  she  began,  cautious 
ly,  as  he  approached. 

"What?"  he  asked,  excitedly. 

"I  don't  know,"  was  the  undecided  reply.  "It's 
about  Joe.  He  went  away  this  morning  soon 
after  breakfast,  and  hasn't  returned  yet.  I  won 
der  what  can  have  happened  to  him?" 

"Did  he  go  in  his  cart?" 

"No;  he  walked  away." 

"Maybe  he's  just  gone  for  a  walk;  he  was  at  the 
mill  this  forenoon.  If  he  don't  show  up  by  the 
time  we're  through  supper,  I'll  look  round  and 
see  if  I  can  get  any  trace  of  him.  He'll  probably 
come  by  supper  time." 

So  Jessie,  half  satisfied,  hurried  off  toward  the 
house,  and  Bill  went  into  his  cabin.  After  a  little 
he  went  into  the  house,  and  in  due  time  the  family 
:sat  down  to  supper — without  Joe.  They  had  just 
finished  with  soup  when  the  door  between  the 
dining-room  and  sitting-room  opened;  the  belated 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFOKNIA  KEDWOODS        129 

Joe  walked  in  and  sat  down  in  his  accustomed 
place.  He  appeared  very  nervous  and  excited;  it 
was  apparent  to  all  that  something  unusual  had 
happened. 

"We  thought  you  were  lost,  Joe,"  Bill  said,  in 
a  friendly  manner,  for  want  of  something  to  say. 

"Oh,  no;  I  was  just  out  for  a  stroll  through  the 
woods,"  Joe  answered,  carelessly. 

"But  you  were  not  here  for  dinner,"  Jessie 
added,  curiously. 

" Oh— that's  so."  Joe  had  forgotten.  "Well, 
you  see  I — this  morning,  I  was  rather  tired  and 
I  lay  down  on  my  bed  and  took  a  little  nap,"  Joe 
bungled.  "The  fact  is,  I  didn't  waken  until  after 
your  dining-hour  was  over;  so  I  didn't  like  to 
bother  you." 

Jessie  knew  this  information  to  be  untrue.  Only 
just  before  dinner  she  had  gone  to  the  two  cabins 
and  made  the  beds.  She  had  had  company  that 
morning  and  had  been  delayed  in  her  work.  She 
made  no  reply  to  Joe's  remark,  but,  nevertheless, 
her  curiosity  had  been  aroused.  She  arose,  and 
removing  the  soup-plates  retired  to  the  kitchen; 
a  moment  later  she  returned  with  the  supper,  and 
said: 

"We  are  going  to  have  trout  for  supper.  I  had 
a  caller  today;  a  young  gentleman  from  San  Fran 
cisco,  who  said  that  he  was  a  banker's  son." 
Jessie  placed  the  platter  of  fish  with  the  other 
victuals  at  her  grandmother's  place  for  her  to 
serve;  after  which  she  again  sat  down.  "Just 


130  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

imagine  ME  entertaining  a  banker's  son.  He 
has  been  in  the  mountains  for  a  few  days  on  a 
fishing  expedition  and  got  lost;  so  he  came  up 
here  to  see  if  he  could  locate  himself.  I  showed 
him  around  and,  of  course — considering  who  he 
was — I  was  unusually  nice.  He  stayed  to  lunch 
with  us;  then  he  offered  to  leave  his  fish,  saying 
that  he  had  no  use  for  them  himself,  not  being, 
able  to  take  them  back  to  the  city.  Of  course  I 
was  glad  to  get  them." 

"After  dinner  I  showed  him  through  the  winery 
and  offered  him  some  wine — just  as  I  do  every 
body.  At  first  he  refused.  I  guess  he  thought  it 
wouldn't  be  good  enough  for  city  folks  until  it 
came  out  of  a  bottle ;  but  after  I  took  a  taste,  he 
said  if  I  didn't  mind  he  guessed  he  would  take  a 
little." 

"Did  you  get  locked  in  again?"  Bill  asked  play 
fully,  i « 

"Don't  you  worry  about  me  ever  getting  locked 
in  there  again,"  she  replied  emphatically.  "I'm  too 
smart  for  that !  I  put  a  rock  before  the  door 
this  time!" 

"What  became  of  him  then?"  Joe  asked  inquis 
itively,  looking  at  Jessie  very  closely.  He  evi 
dently  had  a  large  bump  of  curiosity. 

"I  showed  him  the  right  road  to  take  to  the 
station,  and  after  thanking  me  for  my  kindness 
he  started  down  the  hill." 

Joe  resumed  his  "picking"  at  his  fish.     He  didn't 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        131 

seem  very  hungry,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  had 
missed  the  noon  meal. 

"Oh,  yes!"  Jessie  exclaimed.  "There's  one 
thing  more:  he  said  that  he  was  coming  up  here 
for  a  month,  next  summer,  because  the  fishing  is 
so  good  around  here.  He  asked  if  we  took  board 
ers.  I  do  so  hope  he  comes;  he  was  so  nice.  I 
can't  imagine  anything  much  nicer  than  a  banker's 
son." 

The  meal  continued  in  silence  for  a  short  time. 
Later,  Jessie  again  spoke:  "What  shall  we  do 
after  supper — play  games?" 

"Yes,  I  just  as  soon,"  Bill  responded  willingly. 

Joe  only  fidgeted  in  his  chair.  A  moment  later 
he  spoke  nervously:  "I  am  going  to  ask  Bill  to 
help  me  with  a  few  matters  of  importance  in  my 
cabin  first;  after  that  we  will  come  in  and  play 
games,  or  whatever  you  like." 

Bill  looked  wonderingly  at  Joe;  Jessie  as  well. 

"All  right!"  she  replied.  This  arrangement 
seemed  to  satisfy  her. 

Supper  over,  the  two  young  men  returned  to 
the  sitting-room,  while  Jessie  and  her  grand 
mother  washed  the  dishes. 

"I  would  like  to  speak  with  you  a  few  minutes," 
Joe  whispered  softly  to  Bill,  also  taking  him  by 
the  arm  and  starting  toward  the  door. 

Bill  was  now  curious  to  know  what  the  trouble 
could  be,  that  Joe  seemed  so  upset  over;  so  he 
went  willingly  with  Joe,  out  of  the  house  and 
across  the  yard  into  Joe's  cabin.  After  they  had 


132  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

entered  Joe  shut  the  door  securely  and  fastened  it. 

"Now,  my  man,  listen  here — not  a  word  to  any 
one — remember!'  he  began,  with  particular  stress 
on  each  word.  "I  may  as  well  tell  you  first  as 
last — who  I  am — and  why  I'm  here.  This  is  the 
truth  of  the  matter:  I  am  a  secret  service  detective 
sent  here  from  Washington.' 

But  this  was  more  than  Bill  could  endure.  At 
last  he  had  been  traced.  It  was  all  over  with  for 
him.  Completely  overcome,  he  sank  into  a  chair 
and  began  trembling  in  every  muscle. 

"Don't  be  alarmed!"  continued  the  secret  ser 
vice  detective  provokingly.  "There  is  nothing  to 
be  afraid  of.  So  long  as  you  do  not  plot  against 
your  country,  steal  or  kill — you  need  have  no  fear 
of  a  secret  service  man.  All  I  want  is  a  little  help 
from  you;  so  calm  yourself  and  be  brave — like  I 
am." 

"Now  this  is  the  way  things  stand,"  Joe  went 
on  very  importantly.  "Remember,  not  a  word  to 
anyone.  All  over  the  United  States  there  are 
bands  of  lawless  men — sordid  and  unprincipled 
men — called  Anarchists.  At  a  given  time  there 
will  be  an  uprising,  and  they  will  attempt  to 
overthrow  the  United  States  government.  Now, 
these  men  must  be  suppressed,  for  they  are  grow 
ing  in  strength  every  day.  It  happens  that  one 
of  those  bands  are  forming  right  here  in  these 
mountains,  where  they  hope  not  to  be  molested." 

"Anarchists!"  Bill  interrupted.  He  had  re 
covered  from  his  scare  and  sat  upright  on  the 


STOEY  OP  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        133 

chair,  looking  up  into  Joe's  face;  but  he  was 
dumfounded  at  this  latter  information.  "An 
archists  in  these  mountains !  Impossible  ! ' ' 

"Nevertheless  it  is  true,"  the  detective  replied 
decidedly,  "and  I  am  sent  here  by  the  government 
to  suppress  them,  which  I  intend  doing  in  short 
order,  if  you  will  give  me  a  little  help.  It  was 
just  by  a  lucky  chance  that  I  dropped  into  their 
rendezvous  this  evening.  It  upset  me  quite  a  little. 
You  know  down  in  that  ravine  at  the  foot  of  this 
mountain  are  some  cabins?" 

"Yes,"  Bill  answered  nervously.  "I  used  to 
sleep  in  one  of  them  before  I  came  up  here." 

"Did  you?  Well,  it's  in  one  of  those  cabins; 
there  they  hold  their  meetings  under  cover  of 
darkness  and  then  before  morning  all  quietly  dis 
appear.  One  of  them  was  already  there  on  guard ; 
he  threatened  to  shoot  me.  The  others  will  as 
semble  as  soon  as  it  is  dark.  So  if  you  will  come 
with  me  I  will  show  you  something  that  will  sur 
prise  you." 

"I  would  rather  not.  I  don't  care  to  mix  in 
such  business.  Does  Mr.  Bradley  know  anything 
about  it?" 

"Hush!  not  a  word  to  anybody,  or  my  plans 
will  be  ruined.  I  expect  to  make  a  name  for  my 
self  out  of  this  little  affair.  You  must  come.  I 
need  an  assistant.  Remember!  I  have  the  author 
ity  to  demand  it  of  you ;  so  you  had  better  come 
peacefully.  I  should  hate  to  arrest  you.  Do  you 
see  that?"  Joe  hastily  turned  back  the  lapel  of 


134  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

his  vest  and  displayed  a  glittering  star,  and  then 
as  hastily  concealed  it  again,  giving  Bill  a  mere 
glimpse. 

"Well,"  Bill  replied  timidly,  "if  that  is  the  case, 
of  course  I'll  do  whatever  you  say."  Bill  did  not 
want  to  be  arrested  for  several  reasons. 

"As  soon  as  it  is  dark  we  will  go  together, 
then,"  Joe  answered  with  satisfaction. 

"I  think  you  ought  to  have  more  of  your  own 
men.  Two  cannot  capture  a  band  of  desperate 
men." 

"Have  no  fear;  I  shall  do  nothing  to-night.  I 
merely  want  to  learn  their  plans.  Then  if  it  is 
necessary,  I  shall  send  for  more  of  my  men." 

"All  right,"  was  the  solemn  reply. 

"Come  now,"  Joe  said  encouragingly,  a  little 
later,  moving  toward  the  door.  "I  think  it  is 
dark  enough,  and  you  know  it  will  be  darker 
down  in  that  ravine."  Joe  gave  a  slight  shudder, 
almost  unnoticeable,  at  the  word  'ravine'.  "Don't 
let  your  nerve  get  away  with  you.  There  is  noth 
ing  to  fear.  By  the  time  you  are  as  old  as  I,  and 
have  had  as  much  experience  as  I,  in  this  line  of 
work,  you  will  think  nothing  of  a  small  matter 
like  this." 

"I  don't  believe  I'd  ever  care  to  be  a  detective," 
Bill  answered  truthfully,  as  they  left  the  cabin 
and  hurried  down  the  hill  at  a  lively  pace  in  the 
deepening  gloom.  After  reaching  the  fork  at  the 
base  of  the  hill,  where  the  path  led  down  into 
the  ravine,  Joe  paused;  Bill  followed  his  example. 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        .135 

i 'My!  but  it's  dark  down  in  there!"  Joe  uttered 
alarmingly.  "I  can't  see  anything.  Can  you?" 

4 'Not  very  well,"  Bill  answered,  trying  to 
appear  brave.  "If  we  keep  to  the  path  though 
we'll  have  no  trouble." 

"Well,  you  better  go  first,  then,  if  you  know  the 
way;  you've  been  down  here  .oftener  than  I," 
Joe  responded  with  the  least  quiver  in  his  voice. 

"All  right,"  Bill  offered  reluctantly.  Thus  he 
turned  and  started  down  the  declivity  with  Joe 
closely  following.  All  was  quiet  except  the  gentle 
murmuring  of  the  stream  below  in  the  darkness, 
as  it  ceaselessly  moved  along,  or  the  swish  of  the 
ferns  as  they  brushed  against  the  lower  limbs  of 
the  young  fellows  as  they  cautiously  advanced. 

"Be  careful!"  Joe  expostulated,  as  he  nearly 
stumbled  over  a  rock  in  the  pathway.  "I  can't 
see  where  I'm  going.  It's  as  black  as  ink  down 
here.  I  wish  I  hadn't  taken  this  damned  job." 

"I  can  see  all  right  now,"  was  the  cheerful 
reply.  "We're  coming  to  the  bridge  now.  Be 
careful!"  He  started  over  the  bridge. 

"Wait!"  Joe  cried  with  a  quiver.  "I'm  afraid 
I'll  fall  in.  Now  I'm  all  right,"  as  he  found  his 
footing  on  the  narrow  bridge. 

After  both  were  .safely  across  the  bridge,  the 
assistant  continued  up  the  opposite  path  with  his 
superior  closely  following,  until  they  were  within 
sight  of  the  cabins.  Here  Bill  paused. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  now?"  he  whispered 


13G  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

as  he  turned  toward  Joe.  ''Shall  we  go  any 
closer?" 

"No,  wrait!"  Joe  cautioned  in  a  whisper.  "I 
shall  watch  here  a  bit  first.  We  must  be  careful. 
We  have  to  think  of  our  own  hides.  If  they  catch 
us,  they  will  make  short  work  of  us.  Do  nothing 
only  as  I  direct.  Let  us  get  behind  this  tree  and 
watch." 

Bill  followed  Joe  behind  a  large  redwood,  where 
both  sat  down  upon  a  projecting  root  to  watch 
developments.  Not  a  sound  was  heard  but  the 
rushing  stream  below  them. 

After  a  little  Joe  said  softly:  "I  think  I  shall 
go  up  to  the  cabin ;  perhaps  I  shall  learn  something. 
If  I  hear  anything  I'll  let  you  know.  I'm  getting 
so's  I  can  see  better  now."  He  arose  to  go. 

"Which  cabin  was  the  man  in?"  Bill  whispered. 

"The   second   one;   I  took  particular  notice." 

"Did  you  see  him?" 

"I  only  got  a  glimpse  of  him  as  he  looked  out 
the  broken  window." 

"What  kind  of  a  looking  man  was  he?" 

"He  was  a  black,  desperate-looking  fellow,  I 
should  judge  about  thirty  years  of  age.  I  would 
take  him  for  a  foreigner  of  some  sort." 

"What  did  he  say  to  you?" 

"He  threatened  to  blow  my  brains  out  u  I 
didn't  go  away."  Just  then  there  came  a  crash, 
through  the  stillness;  Bill  jumped  up. 

"What  was  that?"  he  asked. 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        137 

"A  limb  fell  from  one  of  those  trees;  I  think 
it  hit  that  cabin — the  third  one." 

"Be  careful  then!  It  may  arouse  them!  Get 
behind  the  tree!" 

Joe  dove  behind  the  tree  and  for  a  few  minutes 
the  detective  and  his  assistant  breathlessly  clung 
to  the  shadow  of  the  tree,  dreading  what  the  result 
might  be.  Silence  reigned,  nothing  disturbed  the 
quiet  except  the  repeated  squawking  of  some  bird 
aroused  from  its  slumber  by  the  falling  limb.  At 
first  it  startled  them;  but  when  they  realized  what 
it  was  and  silence  again  settled  around  them,  after 
the  bird  had  ceased  its  lament,  Bill  spoke: 

"I  don't  believe  they're  there  at  all.  We  haven't 
heard  a  sound  from  the  cabins." 

"I'm  going  to  the  cabin  now;  if  they're  there 
yet  I  think  I  can  hear  them  talking  from  that 
broken  pane.  If  you  hear  anybody  coming  whistle 
softly,  so  I  can  get  away." 

Joe  very  stealthily  advanced  toward  the  second 
cabin.  Bill  watched  him  from  his  position  by  the 
tree;  saw  him  creep  softly  up  to  the  window  where 
he  paused  with  his  ear  at  the  broken  pane.  He 
thought  that  Joe  must  be  very  brave  to  go  so  close 
to  such  a  place  of  danger.  The  least  noise  might 
put  him  in  the  hands  of  the  desperadoes  within. 

In  a  few  minutes  Joe  left  the  window  and  tip 
toed  quickly  back  to  where  his  anxious  assistant 
stood  waiting. 

"They're  there,"  he  whispered.  "I  heard  one 
of  them  speak  in  a  louder  tone  than  the  rest;  it 


138  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

was  the  same  voice — without  doubt — that  I  heard 
this  evening.  It's  the  only  thing  I  could  dis 
tinguish.  They  are  very  careful  not  to  be  over 
heard.  This  is  what  he  said:  'Dammit!  What's 
the  matter  with  things  anyhow?  I'll  be  glad  when 
this  business  is  over  with!'  " 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  now?"  Bill  asked 
tremblingly. 

"I'm  going  back  again  to  listen.  I  want  to  get 
their  plans  if  I  can."  Joe,  obviously,  was  in  his 
glory  now  that  he  could  see  all  right,  caused  partly 
by  his  eyesight  becoming  accustomed  to  the  dark 
ness  and  partly  because  the  light  of  the  rising 
moon  becoming  stronger.  The  queen  of  the  night 
had  risen  to  the  crest  of  the  adjoining  mountain 
and  was  now  looking  down  into  the  deep  ravine 
through  the  drooping  branches  of  the  ancient 
sequoias.  Just  as  he  was  about  to  start  back 
to  the  cabin,  he  turned  and  in  a  loud  whisper  said 
to  Bill:  "Perhaps  you  had  better  get  behind  the 
tree  if  you  are  afraid."  Joe,  himself,  showed  no 
signs  of  nervousness. 

So  Bill  stepped  back  toward  the  tree,  but  not 
behind  it.  He  wanted  to  see  what  the  brave 
secret  service  man  would  do.  Joe  crept  softly  back 
to  the  window  and  stood  there  listening  agam  for 
some  time.  Then  he  left  the  window  and  moved 
noiselessly  toward  the  door;  here  he  listened  a 
moment,  after  which  he  carefully  reached  up  his 
arm,  took  the  knob  in  his  hand,  unlatched  the 
door  and  slowly  pushed  it  open;  while  he  himself 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        139 

stood  hidden  by  the  house  from  anybody  within. 
Bill  nervously  watched  every  movement,  scarcely 
daring  to  move,  expecting  any  minute  to  see  the 
Anarchists  dash  out  and  capture  Joe.  He  thought 
the  detective  was  doing  a  very  risky  thing  in 
opening  the  door;  but  then  he,  doubtless,  knew 
what  was  best  to  be  done.  The  trembling  youth 
stood  ready  to  run  if  Joe  was  captured.  There 
was  no  use  in  him  being  taken  if  he  could  escape. 
As  he  watched  excitedly,  he  saw  Joe  reach  into 
the  room  and  catching  the  door  underneath, 
slowly  drew  it  toward  him,  and  when  it  was  closed 
he  reached  up  again,  took  the  knob  within  his 
hand,  gently  latched  the  door  and  turned  away. 

Bill,  who  could  hear  the  latch  click  from  where 
he  stood,  was  afraid  that  the  Anarchists,  hearing 
it  as  well,  would  be  out  upon  them;  so  he  stepped 
behind  the  tree. 

Joe  was  coming  back  to  the  tree  writh  long 
strides  when  suddenly  " something"  went  up  the 
slope  from  the  rear  of  the  cabin,  through  the 
bushes — like  the  shot  out  of  a  gun — and  then 
suddenly  stopped  somewhere  above. 

"What  was  that!"  exclaimed  Joe  in  loud 
whisper. 

"I  don't  know!  Whatever  it  was,  it  went 
lively.  I  don't  believe  it  could  have  been  a  man, 
for  surely  no  man  could  go  like  that." 

"Maybe  it  was  a  dog  or  some  wild  animal! 
Have  you  seen  any  wild  animals  around  here?" 
Joe  shivered,  as  he  was  getting  nervous. 


140  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

"Not  since  I  came;  but  one  of  the  men  at  the 
mill  told  me  that  several  years  ago  he  shot  a 
mountain  lion  somewhere  in  this  ravine." 

"A  lion!"  Joe  gasped.  "Well,  come,  we  may  as 
well  go.  I've  done  all  I  could  to-night." 

Thus  the  two  boys  turned  and  hurried  down 
the  path  and  after  crossing  the  bridge  ascended 
to  the  road  above. 

"Well,  I'm  glad  to  be  out  of  there  anyhow," 
Joe  said,  breathing  a  sigh  of  relief.  They  started 
up  the  hill  toward  the  vineyard. 

"So  am  I,"  Bill  returned,  also  relieved.  "I 
don't  like  that  kind  of  business  anyhow." 

"It  is  nothing." 

"Did  you  get  what  information  you  wanted, 
Joe?" 

"Well,  not  exactly;  but  to-morrow  night  we 
shall  probably  have  better  luck.  I  don't  think 
there  could  have  been  many  there;  everything  was 
so  quiet." 

"To-morrow!"  Bill  repeated.  "Will  we  have 
to  go  again  to-morrow?  I  think  that  I  shall  speak 
to  Mr.  Bradley  in  the  morning;  he  has  charge  of 
these  cabins  and  I  think  that  he  ought  to  know 
what's  going  on  in  them." 

"Don't  do  anything  of  the  kind!'*  Joe  an 
swered  firmly.  "If  you  do,  you'll  ruin  all  of  my 
carefully  laid  plans.  I  expect  to  make  a  name  for 
myself  out  of  this  affair.  If  it  gets  out,  the 
Anarchists  will  change  their  meeting-place.  So, 
not  a  word." 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFOENIA  REDWOODS        141 

''All  right,  Joe,  just  as  you  say.  You  surely 
know  what's  best  in  cases  like  this." 

"I  certainly  do!  But  I  would  like  to  know 
what  it  was  that  went  up  that  hillside  so  speedy — 
whether  it  was  man  or  beast." 

"There's  only  one  person  I  know  that  could 
go  that  fast,"  Bill  said  playfully. 

"Who?" 

"Jessie.  When  once  she  gets  started,  she  can 
go  just  like  the  wind." 

"Jessie!"  Joe  exclaimed  amazed.  "So  she's 
really  one  of  them!  I've  suspected  her  from  the 
very  first." 

Bill  immediately  saw  his  mistake  and  was  sorry 
that  he  had  mentioned  Jessie's  name;  he  knew  that, 
of  course,  it  was  not  she.  He  had  only  spoken  in 
fun.  Thus  he  had  aroused  Joe's  suspicions,  need 
lessly,  and  might  cause  Jessie  some  trouble. 

"A  famous  detective,"  Joe  continued,  "once 
gave  me  a  pointer.  He  said:  'When  you  are 
working  on  a  case,  always  look  for  a  woman 
first.'  So  I  have  taken  his  advice  and  I  always 
look  first  for  a  woman;  if  there  is  no  woman  in 
sight,  I  give  up  the  case.  If  it  hadn't  been  for 
this  woman — if  you  can  call  her  a  woman — I  should 
have  been  gone  long  ago." 

Bill  was  amused,  as  well  as  indignant.  "You 
are  certainly  mistaken  about  Jessie  having  any 
thing  to  do  with  these  law-breakers,  so  you  may 
as  well  give  up  the  idea." 

"Perhaps  I  had,"  Joe  responded   softly.     "Be- 


142  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

sides  I  don't  believe  she  could  have  gone  up  that 
hillside  so  quick  anyhow." 

By  this  time  the  detective  and  his  assistant 
had  reached  the  house  and  were  just  about  to  enter. 

"Remember,  now;  not  a  word  to  anybody," 
Joe  whispered  cautiously.  "Just  walk  right  in  as 
though  nothing  had  happened." 

Joe  opened  the  door,  walked  in  with  a  careless 
stride  and  tossed  his  hat  upon  a  vacant  chair.  Bill 
followed  him  into  the  room  a  little  uncomposed. 
Jessie  was  sitting  by  the  table  reading ;  she  looked 
up  upon  hearing  the  boys  enter.  Her  grand 
mother  was  dozing  in  a  rocker  in  the  far  corner 
of  the  room. 

"So  you've  been  reading,"  Joe  remarked  care 
lessly,  dropping  into  a  rocker. 

"Has  anything  happened?"  Jessie  asked  won- 
deringly,  as  she  looked  from  one  to  the  other. 

"Why,  no!"  Joe  answered  quickly.  "Nothing 
at  all.  Why  should  you  ask?" 

"Why,  you  both  look  so  scared!  Your  faces 
are  perfectly  white ! ' ' 

"Are  they?  W — why  it's  the  moon.  I  often 
get  that  way  when  I  go  out  in  the  moonlight. 
Don't  you,  Bill?" 

"Y — yes,"  stammered  Bill,  who  up  to  this  time 
had  said  nothing. 

"Are  you  ready  for  your  games?"  Joe  hurriedly 
asked,  to  turn  the  conversation. 

"Yes,   I've    got   a   new    game   for   this    evening. 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        143 

I've  been  thinking  about  it  and  reading  while 
you've  been  gone." 

"Can  you  read,  and  think  of  games  at  the 
same  time?"  Joe  asked  sarcastically.  "I  can't." 
Joe  often  made  attempts  at  being  funny. 

"Yes — I — can!"  she  replied  emphatically,  plac 
ing  her  book  upon  the  table.  "I  don't  know  how 
it  is;  I  just  guess  I  read  with  one  eye  and  think 
with  the  other." 


144  BILL'S  MISTAKE 


XI. 

WORSE  AND  MORE  OF  IT 

The  next  evening  when  Bill  was  returning  from 
work,  he  saw  two  suspicious-looking  characters 
going  down  into  the  ravine.  He  stopped  and 
watched  them  as  they  ascended  the  path  leading 
toward  the  cabins,  until  they  were  hidden  from 
view  behind  the  shrubbery  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
cabins.  Then  he  turned  and  hurried  up  the  hill. 
Joe  was  sitting  in  his  doorway;  so  Bill  told  him 
what  he  had  seen. 

Joe  stood  up  and  excitedly  said:  "You  don't 
say!  Those  are  undoubtedly  the  men  I  am  after. 
So  as  soon  as  it  is  dark  be  on  hand  and  we  shall 
see." 

After  assuring  the  detective  that  he  would  be 
ready  to  help  at  the  appointed  time,  Bill  returned 
to  his  cabin  to  wash,  before  going  to  the  house. 
As  soon  as  he  was  ready,  he  came  out  and  accom- 
pained  by  Joe  went  to  the  house,  where  they  found 
supper  awaiting  them. 

After  supper  was  over,  just  as  they  had  arisen 
from  the  table,  Joe  stepped  over  toward  Bill  and 
whispered  in  his  ear:  "Come,  let  us  get  out  of 
here,  before  we  have  this  girl  proposing  some 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        145 

'game.'  If  we  have  her  on  our  hands  it  will  ruin 
everything. ' ' 

So,  hurriedly,  both  left  the  house,  going  toward 
Joe's  cabin  as  quickly  as  they  dared. 

"Hurry!'  Joe  exclaimed.  "She's  comin'." 
Bill  turned  just  as  he  was  entering,  to  see  Jessie 
standing  on  the  front  porch  of  the  house,  looking 
in  their  direction.  He  entered,  followed  by  his 
companion,  who  hastily  closed  the  door — all  but  a 
crack. 

"She's  gone  back  into  the  house,"  he  said, 
much  relieved,  after  watching  a  moment.  "It's 
lucky  we  left  when  we  did.  I  always  bungle  when 
I  have  to  make  excuses." 

While  they  waited  for  darkness,  the  young 
fellows  sat  talking;  Joe  relating  to  Bill  many  of 
his  perilous  adventures  in  the  times  gone  by,  and 
how  bravely  he  had  always  conducted  himself. 
When  it  still  lacked  half  an  hour  of  darkness, 
Joe,  getting  up,  said: 

"I  think  we  may  as  well  start  before  it  gets 
too  dark.  Then  I  can  get  through  the  ravine 
easier." 

"Why  -do  you  say  'I' — are  there  not  two  of 
us?"  Don't  you  include  me?"  Bill  asked  indig 
nantly. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  have  not  forgotten  you,"  was  the 
careless  reply.  "But  you  see  to-night  I  am  going 
to  act  a  little  different.  As  soon  as  we  reach  the 
bottom  of  the  hill,  I  shall  tell  you  what  I  want 
you  to  do." 


146  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

They  were  then  walking  down  the  hill  at  a 
brisk  pace,  through  the  deepening  twilight.  Below 
them,  in  the  ravine,  was  darkness,  but  looking 
toward  the  west  the  trees  still  stood  out  plainly, 
outlined  aginst  the  faint  glow  that  still  lingered 
in  the  western  sky.  Venus,  queen-like,  herald  of 
the  night,  already  shone  resplendent  in  the  western 
glow,  and  slowly,  one  by  one,  her  attendants 
appeared. 

"Last  night,"  Joe  went  on,  as  they  had  about 
reached  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  "I  noticed  that 
you  were  a  little  timid;  so  I  am  not  going  to  take 
you  down  into  the  ravine  to-night.  You  must 
learn  to  nerve  yourself  though,  if  you  expect  to 
get  along  in  this  world." 

Bill  made  no  reply.     At  the  fork  both  stopped. 

"Now,  my  man,  I'll  tell  you  what  I  want  you 
to  do,"  the  detective  commenced  very  authorita 
tively.  "Get  behind  those  grape-vines  at  the  side 
of  the  road — you  may  sit  down  if  you  wish —  and 
wait  for  me.  I  have  a  whistle  here.  See  it." 
He  took  a  whistle  from  his  vest  pocket  and  held 
it  up  for  his  assistant's  inspection.  "If  you  hear 
me  blow  this  whistle,  come  as  quickly  as  ever  you 
can ;  if  not,  upon  no  condition  whatever  are  you  to 
leave  your  position  behind  the  grape-vines  until  I 
return.  So,  remember:  if  you  hear  the  whistle, 
come  as  fast  as  your  legs  will  carry  you." 

At  this  parting  remark,  our  very  brave  secret 
service  man,  unaccompanied,  plunged  into  the  dark 


STOKY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        147 

ravine,  to  watch  alone  on  such  a  dangerous 
mission. 

Bill  watched  him  until  he  disappeared  in  the 
darkness;  then  he — to  obey  orders — crossed  the 
road  and,  stepping  behind  the  grape-vines,  sat 
down  on  the  dry  earth,  thinking  what  a  brave 
fellow  Joe  certainly  was,  to  go  down  there  alone 
into  a  nest  of  Anarchists;  he  never  could  have 
done  it.  For  a  long  time  he  sat  there  in  that 
clear,  warm  July  night,  watching  the  scattered 
stars  and  wondering  what  would  happen.  He 
dreaded  the  sound  of  the  whistle;  it  might  mean 
death.  For  surely  if  they  were  caught  by  such 
desperate  characters,  they  might  expect  the  worst. 
His  thoughts  made  him  nervous  and  set  him  trem 
bling.  As  time  went  on  the  night  grew  brighter; 
the  bright  light  behind  the  hill  toward  the  east 
foretold  that  the  moon  would  soon  shine  over  it 
into  the  ravine.  More  than  once  as  he  sat  there 
he  wished  that  the  grapes  were  ripe.  He  could 
easily  have  disposed  of  a  bunch  while  he  waited. 
There  was  a  cluster  hanging  just  by  his  arm;  he 
took  them  in  his  hand — the  grapes  were  small  and 
green;  it  would  have  been  several  months  before 
they  were  fit  to  eat. 

Then,  suddenly,  through  the  stillness  Bill  heard 
tb«  sharp  report  of  a  gun.  The  sound  seemed  to 
come  from  the  ravine  and  went  echoing  and  re 
echoing  through  the  mountain  canyons,  like  a 
dozen  shots  instead  of  only  one. 

Bill  jumped  up,  but   remained  standing  behind 


148  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

the  grape-vine,  wondering  what  could  have  hap 
pened.  He  was  undecided  what  to  do.  Should  he 
go  and  see  what  the  trouble  was?  No,  Joe  had 
given  him  strict  orders  not  to  move  unless  he  blew 
the  whistle;  so  he  concluded  that  the  best  course 
would  be  to  obey  orders,  especially  when  they  were 
those  of  a  secret  service  man  from  Washington. 
Besides  he  was  not  anxious  to  go  anyhow.  If  the 
whistle  blew  he  would  go;  otherwise,  not.  Then 
he  wondered  if  Joe  had  fired  the  shot,  or  if  some 
one  had  fired  at  him — perhaps  killing  him;  if  so, 
of  course  he  could  not  blow  the  whistle.  Well, 
there  was  no  use  for  him  to  go  down  if  Joe  was 
dead;  he  would  likely  meet  with  the  same  fate. 

As  he  .stood  there  trembling,  at  length  he  heard 
somebody  running  down  the  hill.  Could  it  be  Joe? 
No,  surely  he  could  not  have  gotten  out  of  the 
ravine  without  him  noticing.  As  the  runner  came 
closer  Bill  could  see  that  it  was  a  woman. 

"It's  Jessie!"  he  breathed  almost  aloud.  Thus 
he  stepped  out  from  behind  the  grape-vines  to  the 
road,  just  as  Jessie  reached  the  bottom  of  the  hill. 
If  this  had  been  some  young  woman,  doubtless 
there  would  have  been  a  scream  when  a  man 
jumped  out  from  the  bushes;  but  not  so  with 
Jessie;  she  was  afraid  of  nothing,  as  long  as 
there  were  no  tramps  or  murderers  about.  Be 
sides  she  knew,  immediately,  who  it  was. 

"Jessie!"  exclaimed  Bill  excitedly.  "I  wonder 
what's  happened?" 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        149 

''I  heard  a  shot!  I  wonder  if  somebody  has 
been  murdered?" 

"I  don't  know!  Joe's  down  there  somewhere. 
I  hope  he  hasn't  been  shot.  How  did  you  get 
here  so  quickly?" 

"I  was  outside.  I  wondered  what  you  boys 
were  doing." 

Just  then  a  sound  came  from  the  ravine  like 
a  stifled  cry  from  somebody,  and  they  could  hear 
the  bushes  rustling  as  though  some  one  were  run 
ning  through  them. 

"Shall  we  go  down  and  see  what's  up?"  Jessie 
asked  wonderingly. 

"No,"  was  the  decided  reply.  "It's  not  safe. 
Besides  Joe  told  me  not  to  move,  unless  he  blew  a 
whistle." 

"But,  he  may  be  killed  and  then  he  couldn't 
blow  his  whistle,"  she  replied  calmly.  "What's 
he  doing  down  there  anyhow?" 

"He's  watchin'  for  somebody.  I — I  don't  know 
exactly  who." 

"Well,  let's  go  down  and  see,  anyway.  He  may 
be  murdered.  Thus  she  stepped  toward  the  path. 

"But  aren't  you  afraid?"  choked  Bill.  He 
did  not  like  the  idea  of  going  into  that  dark  hole. 
"There  may  be  murderers  down  there,"  thinking 
that  this  would  deter  Jessie  from  going  down  into 
the  dark  abyss. 

"Perhaps  I  won't  be  afraid.  Not  if  we  catch 
the  murderer.  It's  only  when  they're  running 
around  loose  that  I'm  afraid;  so  if  we  can  catch 


150  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

him  I'll  feel  safer.  Maybe  after  it's  all  over 
with,  I  may  have  something,  like  I  did  the  other 
time.  Come  on!"  With  that  she  started  to 
descend. 

"Wait,  Jessie,"  her  companion  said  nervously, 
taking  her  by  the  arm  to  prevent  her  from  going 
into  the  ravine.  "If  I  were  you  I  wouldn't  go 
down  there.  You  are  risking  your  life.  I — I 
think  I  may  as  well  tell  you  the  truth.  There  is 
a  nest  of  Anarchists  forming  down  there  in  those 
cabins,  and  Joe  is  a  secret  service  man  sent  here 
to  watch  them." 

" Anarchists!  What  kind  of  things  are  those?" 
she  asked  curiously. 

"They  are  men  who  plot  against  their  country." 

"Well,  if  that's  all,"  she  returned  unalarmed, 
"we  may  as  well  go  along  down.  I'd  rather  meet 
half  a  dozen  of  them — whatever  you  called  'em — 
than  one  murderer.  Anyway  I  shan't  rest  till  I 
know  who's  been  shooting." 

After  this  remark  the  fearless  girl  hurriedly 
started  down  the  path  as  if  nothing  could  btx>p 
her.  Bill,  not  wanting  to  appear  cowardly,  very 
unwillingly  followed. 

They  had  almost  reached  the  stream,  when  they 
again  heard  something  plunging  through  the 
bushes.  Jessie  stopped  just  as  she  reached  the 
bridge  and  crouched  back  behind  a  redwood  sap- 
pling.  "Get  back,"  she  whispered,  "he's  comin'. " 
Bill  stepped  back  close  to  Jessie. 

Whoever  it  was  on  the  opposite  side  was  stag- 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        151 

gering  down  the  narrow  path.  The  two  awaited 
him  breathlessly.  The  noisy  little  stream  was  out 
doing  itself  beneath.  Bill  hoped  that  the  man 
would  pass  by  without  seeing  them.  Just  as  the 
oncomer  was  about  to  dive  across  the  bridge, 
Jessie  whispered  to  Bill: 

''Grab  him!    Don't  let  him  get  by." 

Bill  had  no  such  intention;  he  was  just  going 
to  caution  Jessie  to  remain  quiet  when  she  sud 
denly  jumped  to  grab  the  approacher  as  he  crossed 
the  bridge.  Bill  did  likewise.  Between  the  two 
they  captured  him. 

"Oh — oh — oh!"  screamed  the  man,  terrified. 
"Let  me  go!  How  shall  I  ever  get  out  of  this 
hole?" 

"It's  Joe!"  Jessie  exclaimed. 

"Oh — oh!  It's  you;  you  sc-sca — you — I — I'm 
lost!  Where  am  I?  H-how  can  I  get  out  of  this 
place?"  All  this  came  from  what  was  left  of 
our  very,  very  brave  detective  after  one  of  his 
thrilling  adventures. 

"Joe!  What  has  happened?"  Bill  inquired  ex 
citedly.  "Can't  you  tell  us?  Who  was  shooting?" 

"Wh — why  didn't  you  come  when  I  called 
you?"  the  shaking  detective  demanded. 

"Did  you  blow  the  whistle,  Joe?  I  dildn't  hear 
it." 

"N-no;  I— I  forgot;  but  I  hollered.  Why  didn't 
you  come?  I  got  off  on  the  wrong  track  some 
how.  I  thought  I  would  never  get  out." 


152  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

''You  told  me  not  to  move  under  any  con 
ditions  unless  you  whistled." 

"Th-that's  so,"  the  quivering  detective  recol 
lected.  "I  forgot  the  whistle." 

"What's  the  matter  with  you  anyhow?"  Jessie 
asked,  impatient  to  know  what  the  trouble  really 
was.  "Can't  you  tell  us  what's  happened?" 

"Y-yes.     Somebody's  been  murdered." 

"Who  did  it?"  the  girl  gasped. 

"I  don't  know  exactly." 

"Well,  tell  us  what  you  know,"  Bill  added  im 
patiently. 

So,  Joe,  after  calming  himself  as  much  as  pos 
sible,  began: 

"After  I  left  you  I  went  over  to  the  cabins. 
It  took  me  a  long  while,  for  twice  I  lost  the  path 
and  got  tangled  up  in  the  underbrush — it  was  so 
dark.  But  finally  I  saw  a  light;  I  knew  that  it 
must  have  come  from  one  of  the  cabins.  So 
using  it  as  a  guide,  I  crept  along  through  the 
bushes  until  I  reached  the  cabins.  I  waited  by 
the  tree  for  a  little  to  see  what  would  happen. 
The  light  came  from  the  second  cabin,  the  same 
that  they  were  in  last  night. 

"I  could  hear  no  sounds  from  where  I  was,  so 
I  ventured  over  closer,  where  I  could  look  in  the 
window.  The  first  thing  I  saw  was  a  burning 
candle  stuck  in  a  bottle,  which  stood  on  an  old 
chair.  Then  as  I  looked  closer  I  could  see  a 
man's  figure  stretched  out  on  one  of  the  bunks 
and  another  man  sitting  in  a  chair  in  the  opposite 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  EEDWOODS        153 

corner  quietly  smoking.  While  I  watched,  the  man 
in  the  chair  picked  up  a  gun  that  was  standing 
in  the  corner  and  coolly  and  deliberately  aimed 
it  at  the  man  on  the  bed.  At  first  I  supposed  the 
man  was  only  examining  it;  but  suddenly,  to  my 
horror,  a  shot  rang  out.  The  man  on  the  bed 
jumped  up  to  a  sitting  position  for  an  instant; 
then  he  dropped  back — dead!  After  that  I  ran — 
I  mean  I  started  back  for  you ;  but  I  lost  my  way ; 
I  think  I  must  have  gone  in  the  opposite  direc 
tion.  I  never  had  such  an  experience;  at  least  not 
for  a  long  time." 

"I  can  see  the  light  from  here,"  Jessie  said, 
with  her  usual  composure,  having  taken  a  few 
steps,  beyond  the  bridge,  after  Joe  had  completed 
his  adventure. 

"What  became  of  the  murderer?"  Bill  asked. 

"I — I  don't  know,"  Joe  responded  nervously. 
"But  come;  let's  get  out  of  this  place.  I  can't 
stand — I  think  nothing  can  be  done  to-night." 

"Let's  go  up  to  the  cabins  first  and  see  what 
the  trouble  is — for  ourselves,  Bill,"  Jessie  added. 
She  was  not  over-anxious  to  believe  all  Joe  had 
had  to  say;  but  she  knew  something  serious  must 
have  happened. 

"I  wouldn't  go  to-night,"  Bill  responded,  not 
caring  to  go  himself. 

' '  But  aren  't  you  afraid  ? ' '  Joe  cautioned.  ' '  There 's 
a  dead  man  in  that  cabin,"  thinking  to  dissuade 
her. 

"What's  there  to  be  afraid  of  with  a  dead  man? 


154  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

It's  the  live  ones  that  I'm  afraid  or.  Perhaps  if 
we  hurry  we  may  be  able  to  catch  the  murderer. 
Come  ahead.  I'm  goin'  to  see  this  thing  out,  now 
I'm  started." 

So  Jessie  started  up  the  path  with  Bill  follow 
ing  and  the  very  brave  secret  service  man  only  a 
step  behind  Bill ;  he  would  have  been  abreast  with 
him  if  the  path  had  been  wider. 

Jessie,  of  course,  was  the  first  to  reach  the  cabin. 
She  ascended  the  steps,  and  opening  the  door 
without  a  knock  entered.  Bill  followed,  with  Joe 
left  on  the  steps  outside ;  he  would  have  been  in 
though,  only  the  other  two  blocked  the  way. 

The  dead  man  lay  on  the  bunk  with  one  hand 
hanging  over  the  side,  and  was  completely  covered 
with  a  blanket.  The  other  man  still  sat  in  the 
chair  calmly  smoking  as  if  nothing  had  happened — 
just  as  Joe  had  described  him.  He  partly  arose 
upon  seeing  the  three  enter;  but  changing  his 
mind,  indifferently  settled  down  again. 

When  Jessie  entered  the  cabin  she  looked  first 
at  one  man,  then  at  the  other.  It  was  the  first  she 
had  believed  of  Joe's  story. 

In  a  moment  after  entering,  Bill  stepped  fur 
ther  into  the  room,  thus  giving  Joe  a  chance  to 
enter,  which  he  very  bravely  did,  for  everything 
was  very  serene  just  then. 

Bill  looked  at  the  bunk,  where  the  dead  man  lay 
completely  covered  with  the  blanket — except  for 
the  hand  which  hung  over  the  edge.  This  was 
almost  more  than  he  could  bear;  he  wondered 


STOKY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        155 

if  all  murderers  covered  their  victims  with  a 
blanket.  Even  the  blanket  seemed  to  mock  him. 
Could  he  be  losing  his  senses,  or  was  it  the  tears 
that  gathered  in  his  eyes  that  made  it  look  like 
another  murder  that  he  knew  about?  He  looked 
at  the  other  bunk  to  see  what  was  there;  only  an 
old  fish  basket  lay  in  one  corner  and  the  gun 
stood  beside  the  bunk. 

Just  as  he  turned  to  look  at  the  murderer,  the 
fellow  again  arose  and  started  for  the  door,  as  if 
to  escape. 

But  Jessie  was  too  quick  for  him.  When  she 
saw  him  start  she  hurriedly  pushed  the  door  shut 
and  stood  before  it. 

" Don't  let  him  escape!  Grab  him!"  she  ex 
claimed,  all  in  one  breath. 

Bill  grabbed  the  man  by  the  arm  and  held  him, 
while  Joe  importantly  put  his  hand  in  his  coat 
pocket  and  drew  forth  a  pair  of  hand-cuffs,  which, 
after  much  fumbling,  he  at  length  fastened  on 
the  man's  hands.  He  was  getting  more  composed 
every  minute.  After  securing  the  murderer's 
hands,  he  bravely  drew  forth  from  his  hip  pocket 
a  revolver,  and  in  a  very  commanding  tone  said: 

"Step  along  here,  now,  my  man!  So  you  would 
murder  your  fellow  man,  would  you?  Well,  we'll 
see  about  that!" 

The  man  made  no  move  to  go;  so  Joe  spoke 
again ;  this  time  pointing  toward  the  door  with  his 
revolver.  At  this,  the  guilty  one,  doubtless  think 
ing  it  best  to  obey  orders,  started  toward  the 


156  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

door,  muttering  something  incoherently  as  he 
advanced.  Jessie  opened  the  door  to  give  him 
exit.  Thus  he  went  out  of  the  house  and  started 
down  the  path  with  Joe  following  pointing  the 
revolver  at  the  man's  back.  The  other  two  brought 
up  the  rear.  Thus,  in  due  time,  this  little  proces 
sion  reached  the  upper  road,  where  all  stopped. 

The  golden  moon  had,  by  this  time,  reached  the 
summit  of  the  opposite  mountain  and  was  then 
flooding  the  open  place  in  the  ravine  with  its  soft 
light.  Perhaps  it  wondered  what  this  little  drama 
enacted  in  its  light  could  possibly  be  about,  as 
it  passed  over  the  mountain-top. 

' 'What  are  you  going  to  do  with  him?"  Bill 
asked  a  moment  after  pausing. 

"Shall  I  get  a  rope?"  Jessie  asked,  beginning 
to  get  excited. 

"No,  we  don't  need  a  rope,"  Joe  replied 
promptly.  "He's  got  hand-cuffs  on;  that's 
enough." 

"Yes,  but  aren't  you  going  to  hang  him?" 

"Why,  no,  Jessie!  You  can't  do  that!"  Bill 
responded,  horrified.  "That  would  be  lynching. 
We  must  send  him  to  Santa  Cruz,  where  he  will 
have  a  fair  trial.  Then  if  the  jury  find  him  guilty 
they  may  hang  him."  Bill  shivered  at  the  un 
pleasant  thoughts. 

"Well,  have  your  own  way.  Where  there's  a 
man  around  I  believe  in  letting  him  run  things. 
But  for  my  part  I'd  feel  safer  if  he  was  strung 
up  here  somewhere.  That's  the  way  they  did  the 


-STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        157 

other  one.  Father  tried  to  stop  them;  but  he 
said  afterwards  he  guessed  it  was  as  good  a  way 
as  any." 

Joe  still  held  the  revolver,  pointing  it  at  the 
murderer.  For  a  few  moments  he  stood  quietly, 
then  he  began  muttering  and  throwing  his  arms 
about  frantically  trying  to  free  his  hands. 

"I  believe  he's  crazy.'1  Bill  spoke  in  an  under 
tone. 

"He  acts  like  it,"  Joe  approved. 

"Hush  up,  will  you!"  Jessie  said  to  the  man 
violently,  stamping  her  foot  as  she  spoke. 

After  that  the  fellow  quieted  down. 

"I  think,"  Joe  began  slowly,  "if  you  will  be 
so  kind  as  to  go  and  get  my  horse  and  cart  and 
my  few  duds,  that  I  will  at  once  start  for  Santa 
Cruz.  There  is  no  use  waiting  until  morning  as 
I  have  the  light  of  the  moon;  and  besides  I  ex 
pect  to  make  a  name  for  myself  out  of  this  case ; 
so  you  see  I  am  anxious  to  get  to  town. ' ' 

"All  right,"  Jessie  consented.  "We'll  go  and 
get  everything  for  you."  80  Jessie  and  Bill  hur 
ried  off  up  the  hill  to  get  the  desired  objects,  leav 
ing  Joe  alone,  still  pointing  the  revolver  at  the 
unfortunate  fellow. 

"I  really  hate  to  send  him  to  jail,"  Bill  said 
sorrowfully  as  they  hurried  up  the  hill.  "I  almost 
wish  that  he  would  escape.  Perhaps  it  was  only 
a  mistake;  the  man  might  not  have  intended  kill 
ing  his  friend." 

"Escape!"   gasped   the    girl.     "Do   you   realize 


158  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

what  you're  saying?  If  a  man  like  that's  left 
around  loose,  he'll  kill  every  one  of  us.  Don't  you 
worry  about  it  being  a  mistake;  people  don't  make 
mistakes  of  that  kind.  I  think  I  know  what  I'm 
talking  about;  I've  had  them  to  deal  with  all  my 
life.  It  seems  as  though  I  can't  move  without  a 
murdering  following  me  about." 

Bill  felt  that  she  spoke  the  truth,  but  made  no 
reply.  ; 

When  they  reached  home,  the  boy  went  to  fhe 
barn  to  get  the  horse  and  cart,  while  the  girl 
hurried  to  Joe's  cabin  to  get  his  things.  In  a  short 
time  she  returned  carrying  his  suit-case.  Bill 
had  about  finished  hitching. 

"I  hope  I've  got  everything,"  she  called,  as  she 
advanced.  Jessie  was  not  sorry  to  have  Joe  de 
part;  nor  did  she  want  to  miss  any  of  his  belong 
ings,  so  he  would  have  to  return  for  them.  "Are 
you  ready?"  she  queried. 

"Yes,  I'm  ready,"  he  acquiesced.     "Jump  in!'' 

Jessie  placed  the  detective's  suit-case  on  the 
bottom  of  the  cart  and  then  hopped  In  herself. 
Bill,  taking  the  lines  in  his  hand,  stepped  in  and 
sat  down  beside  his  friend.  Thus  they  started 
down  the  hill. 

"This  is  far  better  than  walking,  anyhow," 
Jessie  said  gladly,  as  they  started  off. 

When  they  had  nearly  reached  the  bottom  of 
the  hill,  they  could  see  Joe,  by  the  light  of  the 
moon,  still  pointing  the  revolver  at  the  murderer, 
who  stood  sullenly  with  his  hands  before  him. 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        159 

"I'm  afraid  Joe '11  kill  that  fellow  before  he  gets 
through,  if  he  isn't  careful,"  Bill  ventured. 

"Well,  maybe  it  would  be  just  as  well  if  he 
did,"  the  girl  responded  heartlessly.  "I'll  never 
feel  safe  as  long  as  I  know  he's  alive." 

As  soon  as  they  reached  the  spot  where  Joe 
and  his  prisoner  stood,  Bill  stopped  the  horse  and 
both  jumped  out. 

"Your  things  are  in  the  cart,  Joe.  I  hope  I  got 
everything,"  Jessie  said  hurriedly,  as  she  jumped 
out. 

"Never  mind,  if  you  didn't  I'll  come  back — if 
anything 's  left — some  day  when  I'm  not  busy,  and 
get  it,"  Joe  answered  gallantly. 

"Now,  my  man,"  he  continued,  "we'll  soon  have 
you  where  you  won't  kill  any  more  of  your  fellow 
creatures.  Get  in  there." 

;But  the  man  made  no  move  to  obey. 

"Lively  now;  do  as  you're  told!  In  with  you!" 
This  time  the  detective  pointed  at  the  cart  forci 
bly,  and  the  prisoner,  muttering  as  he  went,  step 
ped  into  the  cart  and  sat  down.  He  evidently 
concluded  that  it  was  just  as  well  to  obey  orders. 

"I  believe  he's  deaf,"  Jessie  whispered  to  Bill, 
as  the  fellow  entered  the  cart. 

"Joe!"  said  Bill,  strongly.  "You  better  be  care 
ful  how  you  flourish  that  revolver  around;  it  may 
go  off  and  kill  that  fellow." 

"Come  here!"  said  Joe,  taking  Bill  by  the  arm, 
and,  leading  him  a  little  aside,  he  whispered: 
"Have  no  fear.  It's  not  loaded."  He,  obviously, 


160  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

would  not  care  to  carry  a  loaded  revolver  around 
with  him.  It  might  go  off. 

4  *  Well,  I'm  glad  of  that,"  Bill  answered,  feeling 
relieved.  " You'd  feel  awfully  if  you  killed  a 
man. ' ' 

After  this  the  secret  service  man  returned  to  the 
cart,  and,  just  as  he  was  about  to  get  in,  turned 
and  said: 

"Before  I  go,  Bill,  I  want  to  thank  you  for  your 
kind  assistance;  it  will  greatly  help  me  to  win 
fame,  I'm  sure.  I'm  really  sorry,  though,  to  have 
troubled  you  at  all.  I  could  just  as  well  have  taken 
the  man  alone."  Then,  turning  toward  Jessie,  this 
time  removing  his  hat  with  a  sweeping  bow,  said: 
"And  you,  too,  Miss  Jessie;  I  wish  to  thank  you 
for  your  kind  help;  you  certainly  are  a  very  brave 
young  woman.  This  night's  doings  you  will  always 
remember  among  the  pleasant  little  incidents  of 
your  mountain  life." 

Then,  with  another  sweeping  bow,  he  replaced 
his  hat,  which  he  had  been  holding  in  his  hand, 
and,  taking  his  seat  in  the  cart,  drove  off  down 
the  road  through  the  moonlight  and  the  shadows. 

Bill  and  Jessie  stood  there  for  a  few  minutes 
watching  them  until  the  cart  disappeared  around 
a  curve  in  the  road. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  anything  to  equal  that?" 
Jessie  laughed.  "Very  brave  young  woman! 
Pleasant  little  incidences  of  your  mountain  life ! 
Pugh!  He  certainly  isn't  very  brave!" 

"No;  I  don't  believe  he's  very  truthful,  either." 


STOKY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        161 

Bill  had  begun  to  doubt  the  veracity  concerning 
some  of  the  things  Joe  had  told  him.  "I  wonder 
what's  best  to  be  done  with  the  dead  man." 

" Leave  him  there  till  morning,"  Jessie  advised. 
1  'Hell  keep." 

"Well,  come;  let's  go  home  then." 

"I  wish  father  was  home;  he'd  know  what's  best 
to  do." 

Thus  they  started  silently  up  the  hill,  the  one 
wishing  that  the  murderer  would  escape,  the  other 
wishing  equally  as  hard  that  he  would  not. 


162  BILL'S  MISTAKE 


XII. 

SOME   EXPLANATIONS. 

"Are  you  up?" 

Bill  was  awakened  by  somebody  pounding  on 
his  door  the  morning  after  the  unfortunate  acci 
dent. 

"Are  you  up?"  the  voice  came  again.  It  was 
Jessie  speaking. 

"Yes!  What's  the  matter?"  called  Bill,  jump 
ing  out  of  bed  and  commencing  to  dress. 

"I've  got  something  to  tell  you;  so  hurry!" 

"I'll  be  there  in  a  minute!" 

Jessie  went  down  the  steps  to  await  her  friend. 
She  looked  toward  the  east,  where  the  sun  was  just 
rising  over  the  distant  hills  and  flooding  the  moun 
tain  .sides  with  a  faint,  rosy  glow. 

Bill  soon  opened  the  door,  and  came  out,  asking 
excitedly:  "What's  happened  now,  Jessie?" 

"What  you  you  think?"  she  asked,  as  she  turned 
and  faced  Bill.  "I  got  up  early — I  couldn't  sleep 
— and  went  down  to  have  a  look  at  things  in  the 
cabin,  and  see  how  the  dead  man  was." 

"Goodness!  I  hope  you  didn't  go  down  there 
alone  this  early  in  the  morning,"  Bill  gasped, 
dumfoundedly. 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        163 

"Why  not?"  she  inquired,  as  though  it  were 
nothing  unusual  for  her  to  rise  before  sun-up  and 
go  for  a  walk.  "But  listen;  the  man's  gone — 
blanket  and  all." 

"Gone!  Who  could  have  removed  him  this 
early  in  the  morning?  Surely,  the  coroner  couldn't 
get  here  this  quick." 

"Say,  Bill,"  Jessie  asked  in  an  undertone,  "did 
you  ever  hear  of  a  dead  man  coming  back  to 
life?" 

' '  Why,  no,  Jessie  !  That  would  be  impossible ! ' ' 
Bill  wished,  as  he  looked  off  at  the  rising  sun,  that 
such  things  could  be  possible. 

"Well,"  the  excited  girl  continued,  "when  I 
was  going  down  the  hill,  just  as  I  reached  the 
bottom,  and  was  about  to  turn  down  the  path  into 
the  ravine,  I  saw  a  man  leisurely  walking  down 
the  road  toward  the  mill.  I  remember  now,  he  had 
a  blanket  just  like  the  one  we  saw  last  night, 
strapped  over  his  shoulder.  Dead  or  alive,  I  be 
lieve  it's  the  same  man." 

"Perhaps  he  wasn't  killed,  after  all,"  Bill  re 
marked,  feeling  relieved.  "Joe  must  have  been 
lying  to  us." 

"Do  you  want  to  go  down  and  see  for  your 
self?" 

"Not  now.  Wait  until  I  go  down  to  the  mill.  I'll 
look  then.  There's  no  need  to  look,  anyway,  if 
he's  gone." 

"All  right.  I'll  go  in  and  get  breakfast,  so  you 
can  get  an  early  start.  Come  in  whenever  you're 


164  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

ready."  Jessie  turned  and  hurried  off  toward 
the  house,  as  if  it  were  necessary  to  have  break 
fast  an  hour  earlier  than  usual. 

Bill  re-entered  his  cabin,  and  lay  down  to  rest 
until  breakfast  time,  for  he  had  got  but  little  sleep 
during  the  night.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  had 
only  just  gone  to  sleep  when  the  pounding  com 
menced  on  his  door. 

When  Bill  went  in  to  breakfast,  Jessie  came  up 
to  him  and  whispered:  "I've  been  trying  to  tell 
granny  all  about  it;  but  such  a  time  as  I  had. 
First,  she  thinks  you've  been  murderin'  some 
body;  then  she  thinks  I'm  telling  her  something 
I  read  in  a  story-book.  Now,  I  don't  know  what 
she  thinks.  I  guess  I  won't  tell  her  any  more 
about  it;  there's  no  good  scaring  her." 

"Just  as  well  as  not,"  Bill  responded,  for  want 
of  something  to  say. 

After  breakfast  he  started  down  the  hill,  won 
dering  whether  or  not  he  should  go  over  to  the 
cabins  and  see  how  things  were.  Finally,  he  con 
cluded  that  he  would  go  directly  to  the  mill  and 
tell  Mr.  Bradley  what  had  happened.  Joe  had 
gone,  and,  besides,  he  had  begun  to  doubt  the  de 
tective's  veracity. 

Having  informed  the  foreman  of  the  previous 
night's  tragedy,  and  what  Joe  had  said  about  the 
Anarchists,  after  reaching  the  mill,  the  two  men 
went  together  back  to  the  cabins.  Upon  entering, 
Bill  first  looked  toward  the  bunk  where  the  dead 
man  lay  so  quietly  the  night  before;  it  certainly 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        165 

was  empty.  The  gun  was  still  standing  by  the 
bunk,  and  the  fish  basket  lay  in  the  corner  where 
he  had  noticed  it  previously.  A  bottle  ornamented 
with  candle  grease  also  stood  on  the  empty  bunk, 
where  it  had  burned  itself  out.  The  young  people 
had  thoughtlessly  left  it  burning. 

"Well,"  began  Mr.  Bradley,  "your  corpse  cer 
tainly  has  disappeared.  Who  do  these  things  be 
long  to?" 

"I  don't  know.  Perhaps  to  the  other  man — the 
one  who  was  arrested.  If  this  fellow  was  the 
owner,  surely  he  would  have  taken  them  with 
him." 

"Come,  now,  we  may  as  well  go;  we  can  do 
nothing.  No  doubt,  somebody  will  come  from 
town  soon,  and  then  we  can  talk  it  over.  I  will 
take  these  things  and  care  for  them  until  we  find 
out  who  the  owner  is.  I  believe  I  shall  have  these 
cabins  torn  down;  they  have  caused  us  trouble 
several  times  before.  As  to  the  Anarchists  you 
speak  of — it  is  absurd  to  think  of  such  a  thing. 
If  there  were  such  doings  going  on  around  here, 
I  think  I  would  know  something  about  it  myself. 
Miller  evidently  was  fooling  you." 

"Yes;  but  there  must  be  something  up,  or  else 
why  should  he  be  here?  He's  been  staying  around 
here  several  days.  Surely,  not  to  watch  two 
tramps." 

"Perhaps  we'll  know  before  the  day's  over 
Come  now." 

Mr.    Bradley    left    the    cabin,    followed    by    the 


166  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

youth,  and  together  they  returned  to  the  mill  to 
resume  their  day's  work. 

That  afternoon,  after  Bill  had  returned  from 
work,  just  as  he  was  about  to  enter  his  cabin,  he 
heard  somebody  driving  up  the  hill.  He  waited  to 
see  who  it  was,  hoping  that  it  would  be  Mr.  An 
derson.  He  was  right.  Just  as  Mr.  Anderson 
turned  and  drove  into  the  yard,  his  daughter  glee 
fully  ran  out  of  the  house  and  down  to  meet  him. 

"Here's  father  now,"  the  girl  called,  as  she 
passed  Bill.  "I  must  tell  him  everything." 

The  two  hurried  on  toward  the  barn,  where  Mr. 
Anderson  had  already  stopped,  and,  after  getting 
out  of  the  cart,  began  unhitching  the  horse. 

"Father!"  Jessie  began,  rather  excitedly. 
"We've  nearly  had  another  murder.  A  man  shot 
another  man  in  one  of  the  cabins  down  in  the 
ravine,  and  we  thought  he  was  dead.  This  morn 
ing  he  was  gone." 

"Yes,  so  I  understand.  That's  what  I  came 
home  for,"  drawled  out  Mr.  Anderson,  apparently 
indifferent.  He  was  one  of  those  men  who,  while 
speaking,  the  listener  always  wishes  that  he  could 
pump  it  out  of  him  just  a  little  bit  faster.  He 
was  very  different  from  his  daughter  in  this  re 
spect.  "I'm  afraid,"  he  cont;nued,  drawling,  as 
he  limped  about  the  horse  unfastening  the  straps,- 
"that  you  young  people  have  been  making  some 
mistakes,  if  what  I  hear  is  correct;  but  then  I  sup 
pose  I  really  am  most  to  blame  myself." 

"Why  so,  father?" 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        167 

"Well,  you  see,  it's  just  this  way:  Last  fall, 
when  we  were  gathering  the  grapes,  there  were 
two  men  here  who  worked  for  me — for  a  time ; 
but  as  they  were  of  little  use,  except  to  drink  wine, 
I  finally  discharged  them.  They  left  me  and  went 
to  the  cabins  down  in  the  ravine,  where  they  con 
tinued  to  cause  trouble.  It  seems  that  the  fellows 
were  playing  cards  one  night,  when  one  of  the  men 
accused  the  other  of  cheating.  It  was  the  same 
old  story."  (Bill  shivered.)  "A  fight  ensued, 
and  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  timely  interference 
of  Casey,  one  of  the  mill  hands  who  occupied  the 
adjoining  cabin,  there  might  have  been  murder." 
(Bill  wished  that  somebody  had  interfered  with  a 
certain  fight  that  he  remembered.)  "I  finally  had 
to  send  for  the  sheriff  and  have  the  men  arrested." 

"What  else  did  they  do,  father?" 

"A  few  days  ago,  when  I  was  driving  to  town, 
I  saw  two  men  walking  along  the  road,  not  far 
from  here,  coming  in  this  direction.  They  looked 
to  me  like  the  same  two  that  caused  the  trouble 
last  year,  so  naturally  it  worried  me  to  think  I 
would  be  away  and  you  and  your  grandmother 
here  alone.  I  was  afraid  they  might  come  up  here 
and  cause  you  trouble." 

"You  don't  need  to  worry  about  us,  father," 
Jessie  broke  in. 

"Now  wait;  let  me  finish.  When  I  got  to  town 
I  happened  to  run  across  the  sheriff;  so  I  asked 
him  if  he  knew  what  had  become  of  the  men.  He 
told  me  that  they  had  been  arrested  several  times 


168  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

since  for  various  offenses.  Then  I  informed  him  of 
how  I  had  passed  th&  man  when  I  was  driving  to 
town.  I  also  advised  him  to  be  ready  in  case  they 
caused  us  trouble  up  here  again — if  I  should  send 
for  him. 

"The  sheriff  told  me  that  he  would  send  a  man 
up,  anyhow;  but  I  told  him  not  to  do  anything  of 
the  kind,  for  that  would  be  a  needless  waste  of 
money.  The  sheriff  replied  by  saying,  'Well,  it's 
just  this  way:  I  have  a  young  man  that  is  very 
anxious  to  become  a  great  detective.  Now,  such 
a  case  as  this  would  be  just  the  thing  to  nerve  the 
boy  for  a  beginner,  as  there  is  not  likely  to  be 
any  real  trouble,  anyhow.  If  you'll  let  him  stay 
at  your  home  a  few  days,  I'll  send  him  up  there 
\vith  instructions  to  watch  around  the  cabins  a  lit 
tle  while  in  the  evenings.  If  there  is  any  trouble — 
which  I  doubt — he  probably  can  settle  it.  Any 
way,  I  want  to  see  what  this  boy's  made  of.'  So 
I  agreed;  I  suppose  it's  as  good  a  way  as  any  to 
dispose  of  the  county's  funds.  Also  I  was  glad 
to  have  somebody  up  here  with  you  while  I  was 
away."  Here  Mr.  Anderson  paused. 

"But,"  broke  in  Bill,  indignantly,  "he  told  me 
that  he  was  a  secret  service  man  sent  here  from 
Washington;  and  that  there  was  a  nest  of  An 
archists  forming  here  in  the  mountains;  and  that 
they  met  here  every  night  in  one  of  the  cabins. 
Twice  he  got  me  to  go  down  there  with  him  to 
watch — both  last  night  and  the  night  before." 

"Ha-ha-ha!"    Mr.    Anderson    broke    forth.     "A 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFOENIA  REDWOODS        169 

little  scheme  all  of  his  own  to  get  you  to  accom 
pany  him,  as  doubtless  he  was  afraid  to  go  alone. 
A  nice  detective  he  would  make — afraid  to  watch  a 
couple  of  tramps  alone." 

''I'd  like  to  get  hold  of  him  again;  I'd  soon  tell 
him  what  I  think  of  him,"  Bill  returned,  with  a 
disgusted  look  on  his  face.  "He  tried  to  make 
every  one  here  think  he  was  very  brave.  If  I'd 
known  it  was  only  two  tramps  I'd  just  as  soon 
have  gone  down  there  alone." 

"Tramps!"  Jessie  exclaimed,  shivering.  "If  I'd 
known  they  were  tramps  I  don't  believe  you'd 
ever  got  me  down  there." 

"Now,"  Mr.  Anderson  continued,  drawling,  "as 
to  this  man  whom  you  sent  down  to  jail,  I  'm  afraid 
you  made  a  great  mistake." 

"Why,  papa?  Would  you  let  a  man  like  that 
run  around  loose?  He  might  kill  every  one  of 
us." 

"We  only  did  as  Joe  directed  us,"  Bill  ven 
tured,  meekly. 

"Well,  perhaps  you  are  not  to  blame,"  Mr.  An 
derson  answered.  "I  suppose  I  ought  to  blame 
myself — for  having  spoken  to  the  sheriff.  If  I 
have  left  matters  alone,  doubtless  all  would  have 
gone  on  as  usual.  What  is  more,  I  doubt  now  if 
either  of  these  were  the  men  I  supposed  them  to 
be.  Anyway,  the  arrested  man  was  nobody  I  had 
ever  seen  before." 

"What  did  they  do  to  him,  father?  I  hope  they 
didn't  hang  him." 


170  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

"Now  wait  a  minute,"  her  father  interrupted, 
impatiently.  "If  you'll  give  me  a  chance  I'll  tell 
you  about  him.  The  man  is  not  a  murderer  any 
more  than  you  or  I,  nor  did  he  attempt  murder." 

"But,  father;  Joe  saw  the  man  shoot  directly 
at  the  other,  even  if  he  didn't  kill  him.  It's  the 
next  thing  to  murder." 

"Now,  just  listen  to  me,  if  you  wish  to  hear 
about  your  man,"  her  father  insisted,  forcibly, 
"and  don't  keep  interrupting.  The  fellow  told  us 
that  when  he  and  his  companion  went  into  the 
cabin,  where  they  intended  spending  the  night, 
they  at  first  supposed  the  cabin  was  uninhabited, 
as  it  was  quite  dark  when  they  entered,  and  they 
could  see  nothing  in  the  bare  room.  One  of  the 
men  immediately  lay  down  in  one  of  the  bunks, 
and  covered  himself  with  an  old  blanket  which 
was  lying  there;  he  was  tired  after  a  long  tramp 
which  the  two  had  taken  during  the  day,  and  was 
ready  to  sleep.  This  other — the  one  Joe  arrested — 
sat  down  in  a  chair,  and  began  smoking.  He  told 
that,  after  he  had  been  smoking  a  few  minutes,  he 
saw  a  bottle  standing  on  the  floor;  he  picked  it 
up  to  find  a  candle  sticking  in  it.  Then  he  lighted 
the  candle,  so  that  he  might  the  better  examine  the 
habitation.  The  first  thing  he  noticed  was  the  gun 
standing  in  the  corner,  and  a  few  other  things. 
This  made  him  think  that  possibly  the  cabin  was 
utilized  by  somebody.  So  he  sat  there,  quietly 
smoking,  and  waiting  to  see  if  any  one  came;  if 
so,  he  intended  leaving.  After  a  little  he  said  that 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        171 

he  picked  the  gun  up  and  began  examining  it. 
Accidentally,  it  exploded.  The  fellow  said  that 
he  didn't  know  much  about  firearms." 

"But,  father,  Joe  told  us  that  he  saw  the  man 
on  the  bunk  rise  and  then  fall  back  dead,"  Jessie 
edged  in,  not  yet  satisfied  that  the  man  was  not  a 
murderer. 

''I  wouldn't  place  too  much  faith  in  what  Joe 
says;  he  seems  to  misconstrue  things.  It  may  be, 
though,  that  when  the  gun  exploded  the  man  was 
aroused  from  his  sleep,  and  sat  up  suddenly,  and 
then,  not  realizing  just  what  happened,  lay  down 
again  and  resumed  his  sleep." 

"That  must  have  been  the  way  of  it,"  Bill  com 
mented.  "You  can  hardly  blame  Joe,  though,  for 
being  alarmed;  it  certainly  looked  like  murder." 

"Then  another  thing,"  Mr.  Anderson  resumed 
his  story,  "the  man  said  that  when  you  all  entered 
he  supposed  that  it  must  be  your  cabin,  and  he 
arose  to  go,  but  you,  with  a  different  idea,  grab 
bed  him,  and  thus  sent  him  to  town." 

"Well,  why  couldn't  he  have  told  us  that,  in 
stead  of  growling  so  much?"  Jessie  added,  disgust 
edly,  i 

"The  man  was  a  foreigner,  and  could  speak  no 
English  at  all.  He  just  came  to  this  country  a 
few  months  ago.  His  companion  could  speak  some 
English,  he  said,  but  he  none.  The  sheriff  had  to 
get  one  of  his  countrymen  to  interpret  for  him. 
The  men  were  coming  to  the  mill  looking  for  work. 


172  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

Joe   was   very  much   crestfallen   when   he   learned 
what  an  absurd  mistake  he  had  made." 

"He'll  lose  his  job  for  telling  such  lies,  won't 
he,  father?"  Jessie  inquired,  anxiously. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  about  that,"  Mr.  Anderson 
said,  smilingly.  "Not  so  long  as  the  present 
sheriff  holds  his  office,  anyway;  you  see  he's  one 
of  the  sheriff's  poor  relations.  Now,  I  must  go 
into  the  barn  and  see  if  everything's  all  right." 

iThus  Mr.  Anderson  started  limping  toward  the 
barn. 

"Are  you  home  for  good,  papa?" 

"No;  I'll  be  here  a  day  or  so,  though;  then  I 
must  leave  you  again  for  a  few  days." 

After  this  the  young  people  started  and  walked 
toward  the  cabins. 

"Doesn't  it  beat  all?"  Jessie  laughed.  "And 
just  think  how  I  might  have  had  that  poor  fellow 
strung  up  somewhere,  if  I  had  been  running 
things." 

"Yes,  Jessie;  that  is  where  the  danger  of  lynch 
ing  comes  in.  Innocent  men  are  often  suspected 
of  doing  things  they  never  think  of  doing.  You 
see,  I  told  you  it  might  have  been  a  mistake." 

Bill  wished  that  another  murder  that  he  knew 
about  had  turned  out  as  pleasantly  as  this  one. 

"Yes,  you  were  right,"  Jessie  acknowledged. 
"When  I  get  old  and  can't  get  about  very  well, 
I'm  going  to  write  a  book  about  all  the  things 
that  have  happened  to  me  up  here.  It  would  make 
good  reading.  Don't  you  think  so?" 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        173 

"Yes,  fine.  And  what  will  you  call  your  book — 
'Tramps  and  Murderers'?" 

"No,  indeed;  I  shall  call  it  'Pleasant  Little  Inci 
dences  of  a  Mountain  Life',''  she  replied,  with  a 
seemingly  affected  manner. 


174  BILL'S   MISTAKE 


XIII. 

MOUNTAIN  GUESTS— TOM,   DICK  AND  HARRY. 

One  morning,  while  weeding  in  her  garden, 
Jessie  heard  the  honking  of  an  automobile  coming 
from  the  opposite  side  of  the  house.  She  dropped 
her  hoe,  with  which  she  had  been  weeding,  and 
hurried  to  the  front  of  the  house,  where  she  could 
see  who  it  was.  The  car  had  stopped  near  the 
winery,  and  the  people  were  getting  out. 

There  were  five  in  the  party,  including  the  man 
who  drove.  The  other  four  consisted  of  two  men 
— one  was  tall,  slim  and  fair-haired;  the  other,  as 
well  as  the  two  women  were  short,  pudgy  people, 
of  swarthy  complexion.  The  women  both  wore 
automobile  veils,  which  were  very  much  in  evi 
dence  as  they  fluttered  in  the  mountain  breeze. 
The  two  couples  got  out  of  the  car  as  Jessie 
approached;  but  the  driver  remained  seated. 

"Good  morning,"  said  the  tall,  slim  man  pleas 
antly,  as  Jessie  stopped  before  them,  also  bidding 
them  "good  morning"  in  return. 

"We  understand  that  you  have  a  winery  up 
here?"  the  pudgy  man  inquired. 

"Yes,"  Jessie  replied  complacently.  "That's 
it — over  there."  She  pointed  toward  the  winery 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        175 

just  back  of  the  party.     "Will  you  come  in?" 

"I — I  don't  think  we'd  better,"  commented  one 
of  the  ladies.  "D-do  you  have  any  wine  at  this 
season  of  the  year?  We  thought  it  would  be  so 
nice  if  we  could  get  a  little  pure  mountain  wine 
from  one  of  the  wineries."  She  smiled  affectedly 
while  speaking. 

"Well,  if  you  don't  care  to  come  in,"  Jessie 
continued  courteously,  come  over  to  the  porch 
and  see  the  view.  It  is  finest  from  there." 

"But — "  the  short  man  began  hesitatingly. 
"Well,  come;  let's  go  over  and  see  the  view." 
he  concluded,  turning  toward  the  others. 

Jessie  started  ahead,  the  guests  following  very 
reluctantly  as  if  it  were  too  far  for  them  to  walk. 
It  was  not  scenery  they  had  come  to  the  vine 
yard  for. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that?"  Jessie  cried, 
stopping  in  front  of  the  house  and  looking  off 
over  the  magnificent  scenery  that  she  never  tired 
looking  at. 

"Oh,  isn't  that  beautiful!"  replied  the  woman 
nearest  her,  in  a  tone  that  might  have  been  con 
sidered  as  ironical.  The  others  made  no  reply, 
but  stood  looking  toward  the  south. 

"Now,  would  you  like  to  see  my  garden?"  Jessie 
asked  of  the  woman  who  had  spoken. 

"Well,  really,  I'm  afraid  we  won't  have  time. 
I'd  like  to;  but  you  see  we're  in  somewhat  of  a 
hurry,"  the  woman  returned  with  a  forced  smile. 

"Would    you    mind    showing    us    through    the 


176  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

winery?"  the  stout  man  asked.  "The  ladies  are 
very  anxious  to  see  how  the  wine  is  made." 

"All  right,"  Jessie  replied  briefly,  as  she 
quickly  started  toward  the  winery,  with  the  guests 
following.  She  appeared  the  least  bit  upset;  she 
always  had  a  formula  for  showing  her  home  to 
visitors;  and  she  liked  to  have  them  follow  her 
about  as  she  directed.  The  winery  came  last. 
These  people  were  unmanageable. 

Jessie  led  her  guests  into  the  winery,  where  she 
showed  them  the  presses  and  other  necessities 
used  in  making  the  wine,  and  explained  the  pro 
cess  of  wine-making,  at  which  the  party  seemed 
very  much  pleased.  Then  Jessie  led  the  way 
down  stairs,  where  she  pointed  to  the  huge  vats, 
in  which  the  juice  was  left  to  ferment.  Just  as 
she  was  stepping  toward  the  cellar-door,  doubt 
less  to  get  some  wine  for  her  company,  one  of  the 
women  said: 

"Could  you  let  us  try  a  little  of  your  wine? 
We  would  enjoy  it  ever  so  much." 

"Well,"  Jessie  responded  abruptly,  coming  away 
from  the  door,  "I'm  sorry,  but  it's  all  in  the 
cellar  and  I  haven't  the  key." 

"Oh,  you  keep  it  locked,  do  you?"  the  pudgy 
man  inquired  sarcastically. 

"Father  believes  in  taking  every  precaution. 
If  he  were  here,  I'm  sure  he  would  let  you  have 
some.  He  went  to  Santa  Cruz  to-day  to  get  some 
things  we  need.  You  must  come  again."  After 
that  she  moved  quickly  toward  the  stairs  and 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        177 

began  to  ascend  them.  The  guests  looked  at  one 
another  disappointedly  and  shrugged  their  shoul 
ders,  but  followed  Jessie  up  the  stairs  and  out  of 
doors.  Soon  they  were  in  their  car  again  and 
resumed  their  journey. 

That  evening  Jessie  was  waiting  for  Bill  by 
his  cabin,  when  he  returned  from  the  mill,  eager 
to  relate  to  him  the  day's  doings. 

"They  had  the  ' cheek'  to  ask  me  for  it,"  she 
said  indignantly  after  relating  the  incident.  '  *  Well, 
I  just  wouldn't  give  'em  any.  I  told  'em  I  hadn't 
the  key.  All  the  time  the  door  was  unlocked." 

"Perhaps  you  ought  to  have  given  them  some 
anyway,  Jessie." 

"•I  don't  care.  I  don't  like  people  like  that," 
was  the  decided  reply.  "If  they  had  waited  and 
given  me  time,  I  should  have  treated  them  as  I 
do  everybody  else.  Nothing  I  did  seemed  to  suit 
them." 

"That's  the  way  with  some  people/' 

"There's  one  thing,  though:  I  would  like  to 
have  had  a  ride  in  their  car.  I  never  had  a  ride 
in  one." 

"Didn't  you?    They're  awful  nice." 

"Have  you  had  many  rides?" 

"Only  a  few.  The  best  ride  I  had  was  with 
Tom  and  his  uncle ;  he  took  us  up  the  coast  to  the 
Portland  Cement  plant,  and  back." 

"Who's  Tom?"  Jessie  asked  curiously. 

"He's  a  friend  of  mine." 

"Is  he  a  nice  boy?" 


) ) 


178  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

' ' Yes— he  WAS,"  Bill  blundered. 

"Was!"  she  repeated.     "Well  isn't  he  now? 

"W-well."  Bill  was  getting  nervous.  "H-he's 
dead  now." 

"What  did  he  die  of?"  inquisitively. 

' '  I — I  don 't  remember.  I — I  don 't  know  exactly. ' ' 
The  situation  was  growing  very  unpleasant  for 
Bill.  He  wished  he  had  kept  still  about  Tom. 
This  was  a  lesson  for  him  to  be  careful  in  future. 

"Did  you  go  to  the  funeral?"  Jessie  went  on. 
This  was  almost  as  good  as  a  murder  story  for 
her. 

"N-no.  I  didn't.  Well,  the  fact  is:  I  was 
called  out  of  town  before  it  began,"  he  stammered 
truthfully.  "But  I  must  go  now  and  get  washed 
for  supper."  He  swung  on  his  heel  and  hurried 
off  to  his  cabin  to  avoid  further  questioning.  He 
could  endure  it  no  longer. 

In  the  evening  they  sat  talking  upon  the  ver 
anda  until  night  had  drawn  before  them  its  dark 
curtain,  hiding  from  them  the  beauties  of  the 
outdoor  world. 

"Come,"  Jessie  said  rising.  "We  may  as  well 
go  inside."  Bill  arose  and  followed  her  into  the 
house,  where  Mr.  Anderson  had  already  lighted 
a  lamp  and  sat  reading  in  his  favorite  rocker. 
Mrs.  Anderson  had  already  retired  to  her  sleeping- 
room,  tired  after  her  hard  day's  work. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do,"  Jessie  cried  sud 
denly.  "Would  you  like  to  have  me  read  you  a 
story?  This  afternoon  I  was  reading  in  one  of 


STOEY  OF  THE    CALIFORNIA  BEDWOODS       179 

the  magazines,  and  I  found  the  cutest  little  story; 
I'm  sure  you'll  like  it.  Shall  I  read  it  to  you?  I 
think  perhaps  I  can  put  more  expression  into  it 
than  you  could  by  reading  it  yourself,  as  I've 
already  read  it  once." 

"Yes,"  the  youth  replied  frankly.  "It'll  be 
fine!  Go  ahead!" 

"Well,  you  light  the  lamp,  while  I  find  the 
magazine;  and  then  we'll  go  over  in  the  opposite 
corner — so  we  won't  disturb  father." 

So  while  Bill  lighted  the  lamp,  Jessie  hunted 
through  some  magazines  lying  on  the  table,  until 
she  found  the  desired  one,  after  which  both  sat 
down — Bill  on  the  sofa,  and  Jessie  in  a  rocker  by 
the  table,  where  she  would  get  the  full  benefit  of 
the  light.  After  finding  the  desired  page,  she 
began  reading  in  a  sweet,  low  tone — so  as  not  to 
disturb  her  father — the  following  story: 
Tom,  Dick  and  Harry. 

There's  just  three  of  us;  that's  enough,  though; 
we  wouldn't  want  any  more;  if  we  did,  there 'd  be 
trouble.  We  have  grand  times,  too,  away  up 
here  on  the  mountain  top,  where  we  live.  There's 
much  more  fun  bein'  three,  than  if  it  were  only 
one.  It's  much  more  fun  rollin'  down  the  green 
hill  when  there's  three  than  if  it  were  only  one. 
We  can  roll  and  tumble  all  in  a  heap.  Oh,  but 
it's  fun! 

There's  just  three  of  us — Tom,  Dick  and  Harry. 
I'm  Dick,  Tom's  Tom  and  Harry's  Harry.  If 
you  saw  us  you  couldn't  tell  which  was  which; 


180  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

we're  all  just  alike — we're  triplets,  you  know. 
We're  all  the  same  size;  all  got  red  hair,  blue 
eyes  and  freckled  face;  but  it  doesn't  matter — 
much — away  up  here  on  the  mountain  top.  No 
body  ever  sees  us,  except  father  and  mother,  and 
they  don't  count.  Besides  father's  away  all  the 
time — except  when  we're  asleep;  and  mother's  too 
busy  to  look  at  us;  she  always  says,  "run  off  and 
play."  We  wear  hats  just  alike,  shirts  just  alike, 
and  pants  just  alike.  That's  all;  we  never  wear 
shoes  and  stockings — only  sometimes.  We  like  it 
best  without. 

Whatever  one  of  us  does,  the  others  do;  we  all 
talk  together;  we  all  whistle  and  sing  together. 
When  we  go  to  school,  we  all  three  go  together; 
it's  much  better  than  being  only  one  and  having 
to  go  alone;  much  more  fun.  We  walk  in  a  row; 
I'm  always  in  the  middle.  I  like  the  middle  best, 
because  then  I  have  some  one  on  both  sides  of 
me.  We  each  carry  a  little  dinner  pail  and  always 
whistle  as  we  go — just  alike;  we  never  get  out  of 
tune.  Oh!  but  it's  such  fun,  to  be  three  of  us! 

We've  got  a  gun,  too — only  one  gun;  that's 
enough.  We  all  shoot  with  it,  though.  First,  Tom 
shoots,  then  I  shoot,  then  little  Harry  shoots. 
Harry  isn't  little;  he's  just  as  big  as  the  rest  of 
us;  but  bein'  he  always  comes  last  it  makes  him 
seem  littler.  Sometimes  I  call  Tom  my  big 
brother;  he  isn't  any  bigger  than  ME,  though. 
When  we're  not  shooting  we  carry  the  gun — 
Tom  first,  for  a  little  while,  then  me,  then  Harry. 


STOKY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        181 

Sometimes  we  each  bring  home  a  little  rabbit;  we 
never  shoot  more  than  one  apiece;  that's  enough 
for  one  time.  Sometimes  we  shoot  birds  instead 
of  rabbits;,  then  we  kill  more  than  one  apiece, 
because  they're  good  and  we  like  to  eat  them. 
Oh!  but  it's  such  fun  we  have  together,  we  three. 
It's  so  much  better  than  if  it  were  only  one. 

We  never  have  any  trouble.  If  we  fight,  it's 
always  in  fun;  and  we  all  fight  together.  We 
stand  in  a  triangle;  then  each  fellow  punches  one 
fellow  with  one  fist  and  the  other  one  with  the 
other  fist.  That  makes  things  even.  We  never 
punch  hard,  though.  Oh;  but  it's  fun! 

Then  we  have  a  pony;  only  one  pony — that's 
enough.  We  all  want  to  be  together.  Tom  rides 
in  front  and  holds  the  lines;  I'm  always  in  the 
middle ;  I  hold  the  lines,  too,  and  little  Harry  holds 
me — he's  always  last.  And  such  fun  as  we  have — 
the  three  of  us — riding  up  hill  and  down  dale, 
laughing  and  singing.  Pinto  enjoys  it  as  much  as 
we  do.  We're  not  too  heavy  for  him;  we're 
only  little  fellers.  If  we  pass  any  one  on  the 
road,  they  always  stop  and  watch  us  till  we're 
out  of  sight.  But  we  don't  care — not  when  we're 
having  a  good  time.  Gee!  but  it's  fun! 

Sometimes  we  all  go  down  to  the  brook  and  all 
take  of?  our  little  hats  and  shirts  and  pants;  then 
we  jump  into  the  swimming  pool  for  a  grand 
swim.  Oh!  but  I  wish  you  could  see  us!  We 
enjoy  it  so — splashing  and  diving  in  the  cool 
waters  on  the  warm  summer  afternoons. 


182  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

Again  we  all  go  fishing.  We  each  have  a  little 
pole  with  line  and  hook;  and  each  have  a  little 
basket  hung  over  our  shoulder.  We  all  sit  in 
a  row  along  the  river  bank  and  fish.  I'm  always 
in  the  middle.  And  then  we  just  love  to  gather 
daisies  and  sweet  clover  blossoms  and  take  them 
home  to  mother. 

We  all  have  to  do  just  alike ;  if  I  tear  my  pants, 
Tom  and  Harry  tear  theirs.  Then  when  we're 
asleep  at  night,  mother  mends  them.  It  must  be 
so  much  more  fun  to  mend  three  little  pairs  of 
pants  than  only  one. 

When  we  sleep  at  night,  we  all  sleep  in  one 
little  bed;  we  all  want  to  be  together.  Father 
made  it,  and  mother  made  the  soft  little  blankets 
which  keep  us  warm.  I  always  sleep  in  the  middle. 
Tom  sleeps  on  the  outside;  he  must  be  awful 
brave.  I'd  be  afraid  to  sleep  on  the  outside. 
Little  Harry  sleeps  in  the  inside  by  the  wall.  It's 
much  nicer  to  be  in  the  middle,  though;  then  I 
have  some  one  on  both  sides  of  me.  Oh;  but  it's 
such  fun,  all  to  get  under  the  blankets  together — 
much  nicer  than  if  it  were  only  one ! 

When  we  wake  up  in  the  morning,  bright  and 
early,  Tom  hops  out  first,  then  I,  and  last — always 
last — little  Harry.  Then  we  put  on  our  little 
shirts,  and  pants,  and  hats,  and  go  out  and  bring 
in  the  wood;  it's  the  only  work  we  have  to  do. 
But  then  we  don't  mind,  as  long  as  there's  three 
of  us.  It's  much  pleasanter  for  three  to  bring  in 


STOjiiY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        183 

the  wood  than  for  only  one  to  have  to  do  it  alone. 
It's  fun  for  three. 

Don't  you  wish  you'd  been  a  triplet?  We  always 
liked  it;  it's  much  better  than  being  only  one. 
Here,  away  up  on  the  mountain-top  where  we  live, 
we've  always  been  together — ever  since  we  was 
borned.  And  we're  always  goin'  to  live  together; 
and  when  we  die  we're  all  goin'  to  die  at  once 
and  all  be  buried  in  one  little  grave.  Little 
grave?  Yes,  for  I  ain't  very  big;  and  I  ain't 
goin'  to  fool  you  any  longer,  either.  After  all 
there  ain't  three  of  us;  there's  only  one — only  me. 
Tom  and  Harry  died  when  we  all  was  borned; 
but  I  like  to  think  we're  all  alive;  it's  so  much 
more  fun  bein'  three  than  only  one — away  up 
here  on  the  mountain-top. 

"That's  all.  How  do  you  like  it?"  Jessie  asked 
immediately  after  finishing  the  story.  Then  she 
leaned  back  in  the  rocker  with  a  sigh,  as  if 
exhausted  by  her  reading. 

"Fine,  Jessie!  It's  a  nice  little  story.  You 
read  it  nicely,  too." 

"Do  you  know,"  Jessie  went  on  after  a  min 
ute's  breathing  spell,  "that  story  reminds  me  of 
myself?  Sometimes  when  I'm  alone  I  just  imagine 
there's  some  one  else  with  me;  so  I'll  have  some 
body  to  talk  to." 

"Yes,  that's  a  good  way  to  do,"  Bill  approved. 

After  that  the  two  sat  quietly  for  a  time,  await 
ing  their  proper  retiring  hour.  Mr.  Anderson  still 
sat  reading  in  the  opposite  corner  of  the  room, 


184  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

with  his  back  toward  them.  Suddenly  he  leaned 
forward  in  his  chair,  and  gave  a  sort  of  low  moan 
or  groan,  and  his  book  dropped  to  the  floor. 

Jessie  jumped  from  her  chair,  dove  across  the 
room,  and  gave  her  father  a  terrific  blow  between 
the  shoulder  blades.  "Are  you  alive?"  she  fairly 
shouted.  Her  face  was  white. 

Mr.  Anderson  quietly  arose  to  his  feet  and 
turning  around  said  in  a  dazed  way,  "Why, 
Jessie,"  and  without  another  word  he  quietly  left 
the  room,  as  if  to  retire  for  the  night. 

Jessie  returned  across  the  room  looking  very 
much  embarrassed  and  whispered  to  Bill.  "I 
thought  sure  he  had  his  heart-failure  that  time; 
I've  been  watchin'  for  it  for  years.  Now  I'm 
glad  it's  over  with.  Some  one  told  me  that  that 
was  the  best  thing  to  do  in  cases  of  heart-failure. 
I'll  never  try  it  again  though;  I  guess  he  was 
only  asleep.  Father  is  always  goin'  to  sleep  when 
he  reads;  but  I  never  knew  him  to  make  that 
funny  noise  before.  Did  you  hear  it?" 

'Yes,"  he  answered  amusingly.  "It  was  only 
a  sigh,  Jessie." 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFOENIA  EED  WOODS        185 


XIV. 

THE   ANARCHIST  AGAIN   AND   THE   PICNIC   PARTY. 

One  morning  just  as  Bill  was  about  to  commence 
his  usual  routine  at  the  mill,  Mr.  Bradley,  the 
foreman,  came  running  excitedly  toward  him 
from  the  direction  of  the  cabins  where  the  mill- 
men  slept. 

' 'Come  here,  quick!"  he  called  to  Bill,  who 
instantly  ran  to  meet  him,  wondering  what  could 
be  the  matter. 

" There  has  been  some  trouble!"  Mr.  Bradley 
went  on  breathlessly.  "Two  of  the  men  got  into 
a  quarrel;  it  was  something  about  a  gun.  I  can't 
get  much  out  of  either  of  them,  though;  they 
speak  but  little  English.  Now,  it's  just  possible 
that  it  concerns  the  gun  you  found  in  the  cabin. 
The  men  fought;  one  of  them  drew  a  knife  and 
stabbed  the  other.  Now  we  must  have  a  doctor. 
I  don't  believe  the  fellow  is  seriously  hurt,  but 
he  must  be  attended  to.  I  want  you  to  run  up 
to  the  station  and  telephone  for  a  doctor;  so  he 
can  come  up  on  the  noon  train." 

"All  right,  Mr.  Bradley,"  Bill  willingly  re 
plied.  "I'll  run  right  up."  Accordingly  the  ex- 


186  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

cited  youth   started   to   hurry   away   in  the 
tion  of  the  station. 

"Wait  one  minute,"  the  foreman  called.  "I 
think  you  had  also  better  telephone  the  sheriff. 
This  man  must  be  arrested." 

Bill  gave  a  sudden  start.  The  sheriff — he  was 
the  last  man  in  the  world  he  would  wrant  to  sum 
mon;  but  in  another  moment  he  was  off — running 
up  the  dusty  road.  Perhaps  when  the  sheriff 
arrived  he  could  manage  to  keep  out  of  the  way, 
and  thus  avoid  trouble  for  himself. 

The  men  who  quarreled  were  dark-skinned  for 
eigners  of  some  nationality.  The  wounded  man 
could  speak  but  little  English  and  that  very 
brokenly;  the  other  could  speak  none  at  all. 
They  had  come  to  that  locality  only  a  short  time 
previously  and  had  obtained  employment  doing 
odd  jobs  about  the  mill.  They  were  of  little  value, 
however,  being  a  dissatisfied  and  lazy  pair. 

Mr.  Bradley  tried  to  find  out  the  cause  of  the 
trouble  from  the  wounded  man ;  but  owing  to  the 
seriousness  of  the  wound  and  the  man's  inability 
to  speak  English  he  learned  but  little — other  than 
that  the  trouble  was  concerning  a  gun,  which  he 
seemed  to  think  the  other  had  taken. 

Mr.  Bradley  imagined  that  as  the  men  had 
come  to  the  mill  about  the  time  the  gun  had  been 
found  in  the  cabin  in  the  ravine,  it  was  possible 
that  the  foreigners  may  have  stayed  one  night 
in  the  cabin  before  coming  to  the  mill.  Thus  the 
wounded  fellow  may  have  absent-mindedly  left  the 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        187 

gun  in  the  cabin  and  forgot  where  he  left  it. 
When  the  unfortunate  fellow  improved,  Mr.  Brad 
ley  intended  showing  him  the  gun  and  asking  if 
it  were  his. 

Upon  returning  from  the  station,  Bill  hurried 
off  toward  the  cabins  to  tell  the  foreman  that  the 
doctor  and  sheriff  would  be  up  on  the  next  train. 
The  first  thing  that  met  his  eye  was  a  man  of 
swarthy  complexion,  with  thick,  black,  bushy 
hair  and  a  face-full  of  week-old  whiskers,  in  the 
clutches  of  two  of  the  mill-men.  The  prisoner 
was  a  young  man  between  thirty  and  thirty-five 
years.  His  captors  were  tying  his  hands  behind 
him  with  a  stout  cord.  The  fellow  stood  sullenly 
glaring  at  the  ground. 

"Is  Mr.  Bradley  here?"  Bill  asked  hurriedly  of 
the  men,  as  he  paused  a  moment  to  watch  the 
operation,  pitying  the  unfortunate  prisoner. 

Thus  Bill  hurried  off  toward  the  cabins.  One 
of  the  doors  stood  open;  he  looked  in — the  wound 
ed  man  was  lying  in  his  bunk,  groaning  distress 
fully.  Mr.  Bradley  and  another  who  were  attend 
ing  him,  turned  upon  hearing  foot-steps  outside. 
Bill  gave  his  information,  mopping  his  brow  as  he 
spoke,  and  then  not  knowing  what  else  to  do  he 
returned  to  his  duties.  The  prisoner,  who  mean 
while  had  been  tied  to  a  redwood  sapling  to  await 
the  coming  of  the  proper  authorities,  looked  sul 
lenly  out  of  his  evil  eyes  at  him  as  he  passed. 

Our  hero  returned  to  work  a  little  upset.  He 
hoped  that  the  sheriff  would  not  see  him  when  he 


188  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

came.  Perhaps  he  could  arrange  to  get  behind 
a  pile  of  lumber  and  thus  avoid  being  seen  by 
the  dreaded  sheriff.  He  had  escaped  so  long,  and 
was  doing  so  nicely,  that  he  hated  to  be  trapped 
after  this  length  of  time.  He  wondered  if  the 
sheriff  would  recognize  him — or  know  who  he 
was,  and  what  he  had  done — if  they  should  meet. 
Any  way  it  was  best  to  keep  out  of  sight,  even  if 
he  missed  his  lunch;  for  the  train  arrived  shortly 
before  noon.  Nervously  he  worked  along. 

During  the  course  of  the  morning,  at  the  ex 
pected  time,  he  heard  the  whistle  of  the  approach 
ing  train.  It  sounded  louder  than  usual  that  day 
as  it  echoed  and  re-echoed  among  the  canyons. 
It  made  his  heart  beat  faster.  Now  he  would  have 
to  watch  out,  or  all  his  carefully-laid  plans  would 
be  ruined.  He  hoped  that  the  whistle  for  noon 
would  blow  before  the  sheriff  could  reach  the 
mill.  Thus  he  would  be  able  to  hide. 

A  moment  after  the  locomotive  ceased  whistling, 
he  heard  somebody  address  him;  upon  turning 
around  he  beheld  Mr.  Bradley. 

"Bill,"  he  spoke  quickly;  "I  think  I  will  have 
you  run  up  to  the  station  and  meet  the  doctor  and 
sheriff;  so  no  time  will  be  lost.  Our  patient  is 
suffering  intensely.  Like  as  not  they  will  not  know 
the  way;  so  if  you're  there,  you  can  bring  them 
down  without  delay." 

Provoked,  the  boy  stood  for  a  moment  and 
looked  at  the  foreman,  as  if  paralyzed;  he  had 
not  planned  on  such  a  thing  as  this  happening. 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        189 

If  he  went  he  would  be  running  a  terrible  risk, 
and  yet  he  dared  not  refuse.  In  another  moment 
he  was  off,  going  as  fast  as  though  he  expected 
to  meet  his  dearest  friend  on  the  incoming  train. 
He  was  not  going  to  be  cowardly — be  the  result 
what  it  may. 

He  reached  the  station  before  the  train  arrived 
and  stood  there  awaiting  it — white,  nervous  and 
out  of  breath  from  his  hasty  run  up  the  hilly 
road.  In  a  few  minutes  the  train,  after  rounding 
a  curve,  came  puffing  and  steaming  along  the 
curving  track  with  the  tall  trees  rising  on  either 
side.  He  dreaded  having  it  stop.  But,  regard 
less  of  his  fears,  according  to  its  daily  custom  the 
train  slowed  down  as  it  approached  the  station 
and  presently  stopped. 

The  unfortunate  youth  expectantly  and  trem 
blingly  watched  for  the  dreaded  arrivals.  At 
sight  of  the  first  to  get  off,  Bill  gave  a  start  of 
surprise.  It  was  Joe.  "What  can  Joe  be  coming 
up  here  for?"  he  wondered.  The  second  to  get  off 
was  a  short,  thick-set  gentleman  carrying  a  satchel 
— the  doctor.  The  train  having  paused  only  for 
an  instant,  then  moved  slowly  along  through  the 
tunnel  on  its  way  over  the  mountains.  So  the 
sheriff  had  not  come.  Obviously  Joe  had  been 
sent  in  his  place.  Bill  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief 
as  he  walked  up  to  the  incomers  and  told  them 
why  he  was  there.  Thus  the  three  hurriedly 
walked  off  toward  the  mill. 

Joe  conducted  himself  as  importantly  as  usual, 


190  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

much  to  Bill's  disgust.  He  had  half  a  notion  to 
tell  the  braggart  about  what  he  thought  of  him; 
but  then  the  doctor  was  along  and  he  did  not 
like  to  say  anything  before  him.  Perhaps  later 
in  the  day  he  would  get  a  chance;  and  if  so, 
he  would  ask  Joe  what  he  meant  by  scaring  him 
with  all  those  lies  about  Anarchists,  when  he  was 
only  sent  up  to  watch  two  tramps.  So  he  spent 
his  time  telling  the  doctor,  as  well  as  Joe,  what  he 
knew  concerning  the  quarrel,  as  they  walked 
down  to  the  mill. 

As  they  neared  the  cabins,  Joe,  seeing  the  un 
fortunate  prisoner  tied  to  the  tree,  left  the  others 
and  walked  over  toward  him.  Bill  conducted  the 
doctor  on  to  the  cabin  where  the  suffering  man 
lay  groaning  with  intense  pain.  That  worthy 
gentleman  quickly  entered  to  administer  his  pro 
fessional  aid.  Bill  then  turned  away.  Just  as  he 
passed  the  last  cabin,  upon  looking  to  the  left, 
where  the  prisoner  was  tied,  he  saw  Joe  go  up  to 
the  man  and  give  him  several  severe  kicks  upon 
the  thigh. 

"So  at  last  you  are  caught — red-handed — are 
you?  Well,  I'll  teach  you  a  lesson,"  he  cried, 
showing  temper. 

Bill  started  to  go  over  to  Joe  and  give  him  a 
severe  chastising  for  inhuman  treatment  of  a 
fallen  man;  but  just  then  Mr.  Bradley  came  run 
ning  from  the  sick  man's  cabin,  and,  calling  to 
Bill  sent  him  on  an  errand.  When  he  returned, 
sometime  later,  the  prisoner  was  still  bound  to  the 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNA   REDWOODS        19L 

redwood  sapling,  looking  sullenly  at  the  ground. 
Joe  and  Mr.  Bradley  were  engaged  very  confi 
dentially  in  conversation  a  short  distance  away 
from  the  prisoner.  He  delivered  his  message, 
after  which  Mr.  Bradley  bid  him  return  to  his 
work,  which  he  promptly  did. 

It  was  only  for  a  short  time  though,  for  soon 
the  whistle  blew  for  the  cessation  of  work  for  the 
noon  hour.  Bill,  as  he  stopped  work,  looked  over 
in  the  direction  where  the  prisoner  still  stood. 
Joe  was  sitting  on  a  pile  of  lumber  near  by  in 
the  shade  of  a  sequoia,  guarding  his  charge  very 
importantly  and  never  taking  his  eyes  off  the  poor 
fellow  for  fear  that  if  he  did  so  the  fellow  might 
escape. 

Bill  saw  his  chance.  He  hastened  over  to  where 
Joe  sat,  and  began  first  by  saying:  "What  are 
you  going  to  do  with  him,  Joe?" 

"I  have  an  assistant  coming  up  in  a  wagon," 
Joe  responded  egotistically.  "I  expect  he  will 
be  at  the  station  about  one  o'oclock.  I  shall  wait 
here  until  nearly  that  time;  then  I  shall  take  this 
desperate  character  up  to  the  station  and  when 
my  man  comes  we  will  hurry  him  off  to  the  county 
jail  in  a  jiffy,  where  he  will  cause  no  further 
trouble.  As  soon  as  I  heard  of  the  trouble  I 
started  my  man  off  and  I  jumped  on  the  train, 
so  as  to  get  here  quickly  in  case  the  fellow  was 
unmanageable." 

"Joe!"  Bill  demanded  forcibly,  "what  did  you 
mean  by  telling  me  there  were  a  lot  of  Anarchists 


192  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

down  in  those  cabins,  when  you  were  only  sent 
there  to  wateh  a  couple  of  tramps?" 

"Bill,"  Joe  apologized  kindly.  "I'm  sorry  to 
have  alarmed  you;  but  I  had  good  reasons  for  so 
doing.  On  my  word  of  honor,  when  I  went  down 
to  those  cabins  that  first  evening,  just  before  I 
told  you  about  the  Anarchists,  there  was  a  man 
there  who  told  me  that  he  was  an  Anarchist. 
He  pointed  a  gun  at  me  from  the  window  and 
threatened  to  blow  my  brains  out  if  I  didn't  go 
away.  Now,  at  first  I  believed  him,  and  what's 
more — unless  I'm  very  much  mistaken  this  (again 
pointing  at  the  man)  is  the  same  black  head,  the 
same  black  eyes,  but  as  to  the  whiskers  I  could 
not  swear.  Evidently  he  was  freshly  shaven  at 
that  time  and  these  villainous  whiskers  have 
appeared  since. 

"Now  at  first  I  was  positive  that  I  had  accident 
ally  stumbled  on  a  nest  of  Anarchists,  and  I  felt 
if  I  could  learn  of  their  whereabouts  I  could 
easily  win  fame  as  a  detective.  So  surely  you 
can't  blame  me  if  I  wanted  somebody  to  accom 
pany  me  into  that  dark  hole. 

"The  next  day  I  gave  up  the  idea  of  there  being 
any  Anarchists;  thinking  that  if  the  man — who 
ever  he  was — was  really  an  Anarchist,  he  would 
not  have  mentioned  it.  Perhaps  he  wanted  to 
alarm  me  needlessly,  for  some  reason  or  other; 
so  I  put  him  up  to  be  a  liar.  The  next  evening 
when  you  reported  having  seen  the  two  men,  I 
immediately  concluded  that  they  were  the  ones 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        193 

I  had  been  sent  up  here  to  watch.  So,  thinking 
nothing  of  a  couple  of  tramps,  I  left  you  above 
the  next  night  so  you  would  not  be  nervous.  Then 
that  awful  accident  happened;  I  thought  sure 
that  fellow  had  been  shot,  the  way  he  acted.  Now 
do  you  blame  me  for  anything  I  did?" 

Bill  was  thoughtful  for  a  moment,  staring  at  the 
lumber  pile  before  him.  If  what  Joe  said  was 
true,  he  would  have  no  further  hard  feeling  in 
the  matter.  But  he  knew  of  several  positive  lies 
that  Joe  had  told,  so  he  did  not  know  what  to 
believe. 

"But,  Joe,"  he  finally  said,  puzzled,  "who  do 
you  suppose  the  gun  belonged  to?  Neither  of  the 
two  tramps  claimed  it." 

"Now  that's  just  what  I'm  coming  to,"  Joe 
interrupted  forcibly,  clapping  his  fist  on  his 
thigh.  "It  must  belong  to  somebody.  Who  else 
but  the  Anarchist  man?  He  was  there — I  saw  and 
heard  him.  Now  since  coming  up  here  to-day  I 
have  changed  my  opinion  again.  I  believe  the  man 
really  is  an  Anarchist.  I  believe  now  that  he  said 
what  he  did  in  order  to  scare  me  away  so  I  would 
not  interfere  with  the  meeting.  He  was  a  sly  one. 
Today,  since  coming  up  here — I  have  been  talk 
ing  with  Mr.  Bradley  and  he  agrees  with  me  in 
thinking  that  the  man  really  is  an  Anarchist. 
He  says  that  he  has  been  having  trouble  with 
more  than  one  of  these  blue-skinned  foreigners, 
who  have  taken  employment  at  the  mill  and  can 
get  but  little  work  out  of  them.  Anyhow  I'm 


194  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

sure  that  this  is  the  man  I  saw  at  the  cabin; 
so  when  I  get  him  to  town,  we'll  find  out  all 
about  it.  There's  no  use  to  question  him  here, 
he  seems  so  sulky.  Afterwards  I'll  let  you  know." 

"Well,  I  suppose  it's  all  right,  Joe,"  Bill  half 
way  forgave.  "Only  I  don't  believe  he's  an 
Anarchist." 

"What's  that!"  It  was  Mr.  Bradley  speaking 
from  behind  Bill.  He  turned  at  the  sound  of  the 
voice. 

"Bill  is  inclined  to  doubt  my  word — concerning 
this  Anarchist,"  Joe  spoke,  seemingly  indignant. 

"I  can't  believe  the  man  is  an  Anarchist,  some 
how  or  other,"  he  solemnly  responded.  "It  don't 
seem  likely." 

"If  I  were  you,  Bill,"  Mr.  Bradley  advised,  "I 
would  say  no  more  about  these  Anarchists.  It 
may  be  possible  that  what  Joe  suspects  is  true.  I 
am  suspicious  of  several  of  the  men  employed 
here;  so  I  intend  to  watch  them.  I  think  you 
had  better  keep  as  quiet  as  possible,  until  we 
simmer  this  thing  down.  Joe  is  quite  positive  that 
this  fellow  here  is  the  one  he  saw  at  the  cabins. 
It  seems  reasonable,  too;  as  near  as  I  can  recollect, 
these  foreigners  arrived  at  the  mill  about  the  time 
the  trouble  came  up.  Then  as  to  this  gun  they 
have  been  quarreling  about,  like  as  not  the  gun 
belongs  to  the  wounded  man.  Well,  as  soon  as  he 
quiets  down  a  little,  I'm  going  to  show  it  to  him 
and  find  out  for  certain.  As  to  this  desperado 
here,  on  account  of  what  he's  done,  he'll  have  to 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        195 

be  arrested — Anarchist  or  not.  Then  when  they 
get  him  down  town,  they  may  be  able  to  straighten 
things  out." 

"How  is  the  injured  man?"  Bill  thoughtfully 
asked. 

"The  doctor  says  he's  not  seriously  hurt;  he 
says  he'll  be  all  right  in  a  short  time.  The 
fellow's  more  scared  than  hurt." 

"I  believe  I'll  take  this  Anarchist  up  to  the  sta 
tion  now;  my  assistant  may  come  most  any  time," 
the  would-be  detective  said,  replacing  his  watch 
which  he  had  just  examined,  and,  rising  from  the 
lumber,  walked  slowly  over  toward  the  prisoner 
and  unfastened  the  rope  which  bound  the  unfor 
tunate  fellow  to  the  sapling.  His  hands  he  left 
tied  behind  him.  Then  taking  the  man  by  the  arm, 
Joe  led  him  off  toward  the  road  leading  up  to 
the  station.  The  unfortunate  fellow  went  quietly, 
except  for  a  little  jabbering,  incoherently. 

"What  makes  him  act  like  that?"  Bill  inquired 
of  Mr.  Bradley,  as  he  sorrowfully  watched  the 
departure. 

"Oh,  he  can't  speak  a  word  of  English,"  Mr. 
Bradley  replied,  surprised  that  Bill  had  only  just 
found  out  that  fact.  "He  only  came  to  this  country 
a  few  months  ago,  with  this  fellow  he  has  wounded 
He  is  a  Greek,  I  think.  I  managed  to  get  a  little 
information  from  the  sick  man,  just  before  the 
doctor  came.  He  can  speak  fairly  good  English; 
has  been  in  America  for  five  years.  Last  winter 
he  returned  home  on  a  visit;  and  when  he  came 


196  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

back  this  spring,  this  other  fellow  came  with  him. 
I  imagine  they  are  related  in  some  way.  Perhaps 
they  are  not  concerned  with  Miller's  Anarchism; 
but  I  believe  it  best  to  investigate." 

"Yes.  That  would  be  perfectly  correct.  I  must 
hurry  now  and  get  my  dinner." 

"So  must  I." 

The  two  men  turned  and  walked  hurriedly 
toward  the  cook-house  as  the  noon  hour  was  fast 
slipping  away. 

Meanwhile,  Joe,  accompanied  by  the  suspected 
Anarchist,  slowly  plodded  along  through  the  noon 
tide  heat,  up  the  hill  to  the  Laurel  station.  The 
Anarchist  went  along  quietly,  and  Joe  thinking 
that  he  would  have  no  further  trouble  with  him, 
soon  took  his  hand  from  the  man's  arm,  and 
together  they  walked  along  in  silence.  Just  as 
they  neared  the  station,  the  prisoner  tried  to  run 
away,  but  Joe  soon  captured  him,  and — to  show  his 
authority — commenced  brutally  kicking  the  man 
about  the  legs.  Joe  easily  lost  his  temper, 

"What  is  the  trouble?"  some  one  called  from 
across  the  railroad  track.  Joe  looked  in  the  direc 
tion  whence  the  voice  had  come,  and  was  surprised 
to  see  that  he  had  an  audience.  A  party  of  pic 
nickers,  who  had  just  finished  eating  their  lunch 
from  a  pile  of  lumber,  arose  and  stood  watching 
him  and  his  charge  amazedly.  A  four-in-hand 
stood  a  little  apart  from  the  picnickers  patiently 
waiting  for  them  to  resume  their  journey.  Joe 
was  too  dumfounded  to  speak. 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        197 

"What  is  the  trouble?"  one  of  the  gentlemen 
of  the  party  again  called. 

"Why,  this  man  is  an  Anarchist.  There  is  a 
nest  of  them  forming  in  these  mountains,  as  well 
as  others  in  various  parts  of  the  United  States. 
They  expect,  sooner  or  later,  to  overthrow  the 
government  of  the  United  States.  I  am  a  secret 
service  man  sent  here  from  Washington  to  sup 
press  them."  Joe  evidently  never  wasted  an  op 
portunity  to  sing  his  own  praises,  whether  they 
were  real  or  imaginary.  "Do  you  see  that?"  he 
continued  importantly,  turning  back  his  shirt 
front  to  give  proof  of  his  being  a  secret  service 
man.  But  the  amazed  party  were  all  too  far 
away  to  see  whether  the  proof  was  there  or  not. 
"This  is  the  first  arrest  I  have  made;  but  others 
will  soon  follow." 

After  that  the  so-called  Anarchist  began  mut 
tering  something  in  his  own  tongue,  and  showed 
temper. 

"What  is  he  saying?"  anxiously  inquired  the 
member  of  the  picnic  party. 

"He  says,"  Joe  responded  gallantly,  " — excuse 
the  expression  ladies — 'To  hell  with  the  Ameri 
cans'." 

Just  then  a  man  in  a  small  cart  came  driving 
down  the  road.  Joe,  upon  seeing  him,  took  the 
prisoner  by  the  arm  and  led  him  across  the  track 
to  where  the  man  with  the  cart  stopped.  He 
ordered  the  Anarchist  to  get  into  the  cart,  which 
the  unhappy  fellow  unwillingly  did.  Then  just  as 


198  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

Joe  was  about  to  enter  also,  he  turned  around 
and,  removing  his  hat,  with  a  sweeping  bow  said  to 
the  picnickers:  "Ladies  and  gentlemen,  this  has 
been  put  a  pleasant  little  incident  of  your  moun 
tain  drive."  After  which  he  replaced  his  hat,  and 
(stepping  into  the  cart  took  his  seat  beside  the 
other  two.  Thus  the  three  drove  off  in  the  same 
direction  in  which  Joe's  assisant  had  come,  leaving 
a  much  bewildered  and  horrified  party  of  pic 
nickers  watching  them  until  they  disappeared  be 
hind  an  embankment.  The  picnickers  then  looked 
at  one  another,  too  dumfounded  to  speak,  at  the 
thoughts  of  Anarchists  forming  in  the  Santa  Cruz 
Mountains. 

The  next  evening  as  Bill  was  returning  from 
work  he  was  startled  by  a  voice  coming  from 
behind  the  blackberry  briars,  just  as  he  was  about 
to  enter  the  gateway. 

"Here  I  am  again."  Bill  looked  up  at  the 
sound  of  the  voice,  to  see  Jessie  standing  there, 
with  a  glad  smile  spreading  over  her  sweet  face, 
waiting  to  meet  him  after  a  few  days  absence. 

"Well,  how  did  you  get  home!"  he  surprisingly 
exclaimed.  "I  thought  your  father  wasn't  going 
after  you  until  to-morrow." 

"I  came  on  the  cars  this  morning.  Father  will 
bring  my  things  up  to-morrow  when  he  goes  down. 
I  just  couldn't  wait  any  longer.  It's  so  stupid 
down  there.  My  brother-in-law  came  home  yes 
terday  and  will  be  there  until  Monday,  so  I 
wasn't  needed  any  longer.  This  morning  when  I 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        199 

hard  the  train  coming  it  just  put  an  idea  into 
my  head — 'Good-bye,'  I  said  to  all  of  them — we 
had  just  finished  breakfast — and  I  grabbed  my  hat 
and  said  I  was  going  home  on  the  train;  and  I 
started  off  on  the  run  toward  the  station.  When 
I  got  there  I  had  no  money  to  buy  a  ticket,  so  I 
just  borrowed  enough  from  Mr.  Hartwell,  the 
station  agent,  and  told  him  that  father  would  re 
turn  it  to-morrow.  So  here  I  am.  It  seems  good 
to  get  home  again.  I  believe  I'd  have  died  if  I'd 
had  to  have  stayed  down  there  another  night. 
Have  you  been  lonely?" 

"A  little,"  he  felt  that  he  must  acknowledge. 
"And  Jessie,  we  had  quite  an  excitement  yester 
day  at  the  mill." 

"Yes,"  she  interrupted.  "Father  was  telling 
me  about  it  this  afternoon.  I'm  so  sorry  I  was 
away.  It's  just  my  luck  though.  I'm  so  glad 
to  know  at  last  who  that  gun  belongs  to.  I've 
been  dying  with  curiosity  about  it." 

"But  Jessie,  that  wasn't  the  man's  gun  after 
all — the  one  they  quarreled  over,  I  mean.  To-day 
some  one  found  the  sick  man's  gun  under  his  bunk 
behind  some  other  things,  where  he  put  it.  When 
they  showed  it  to  him  he  finally  acknowledged 
that  he  put  it  there  himself  and  then  forgot  where 
he  put  it." 

"You  don't  say!  Well,  then,  to  whom  could 
the  other  gun  belong?" 

"I  don't  know,"  Bill  replied  doubtfully.  "It 
must  belong  to  somebody;  but  we  can't  find  out. 


200  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

Come,  now,  let's  move  along."  So  they  left 
the  gateway  where  they  had  been  standing  and 
continued  toward  the  house. 

"Ill  never  rest  until  I  find  out  who  that  gun 
belongs    to,"    Jessie    offered    thoughtfully.      "I'd 
give  my  new  hat  to  know  this  minute." 
"Did  you  get  a  new  hat  while  you  were  away?" 
"Yes;  it's  a  beaut;  it's  got  red  poppies  all  over 
it.     Bertha  wanted  me  to  get  one  that  had  purple 
pansies.     She  said  it  would  be  a  little  more  sub 
dued;  but  I  liked  the  red  one  best.     People  will 
be    able    to    see    me    when   I'm    comin'    if   I   have 
somethin'  lively  on." 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        201 


XV. 

WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  CROSS-ROADS. 

It  was  a  beautiful  summer  morning — one  of 
those  days  when  you  just  feel  like  saying, 
"Perfect!  Could  anything  be  more  beautiful!" 
The  air  was  clear  and  fresh,  with  a  gentle  breeze 
rustling  through  the  tree-tops,  and  then  dying 
away  again,  like  strains  of  distant  music.  The 
bright,  golden  sunshine  bathed  the  mountain-tops, 
as  well  as  the  deep  valleys,  till  every  leaf  and 
every  blade  of  grass  seemed  to  reflect  the  glorious 
summer  gladness;  and  the  dew-drops  sparkled 
in  the  grass  like  precious  gems.  Various  song 
sters  were  busy  in  every  mazanita  and  toyon,  sing 
ing  as  if  their  very  souls  would  burst  into  songs 
of  joy.  Here  and  there  a  cluster  of  late  bloom 
ing  wild  flowers  added  their  brightness  to  the 
scene,  and  a  sweet  fragrance  permeated  all — the 
mingling  of  grasses,  trees  and  flowers. 

The  evening  before,  Jessie  and  Bill  had  planned 
on  taking  an  all-day  walk  through  the  mountains, 
eating  their  lunch  under  the  shade-trees  somewhere 
beside  the  stream. 

So  when  Sunday  morning  arrived — according 
to  arrangement — they  got  a  good  early  start,  while 


202  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

it  was  cool,  and  went  down  the  hill.  Jessie  carried 
a  small  paste-board  box,  which  contained  their 
lunch.  They  continued  on,  past  the  mill,  over  the 
creek,  and  up  the  opposite  hillside.  They  were 
both  happy  as  they  went  chattering  and  laughing 
along  the  road  of  many  ups  and  downs.  If  any 
one  had  mentioned  the  name  of  Thomas  Lawrence 
to  Bill  that  morning,  he  would  doubtless  have 
said,  "Who  was  he?"  For  so  quick  do  we  forget 
the  dear  departed.  But  Bill  had  not  forgotten;  it 
was  only  while  listening  to  Jessie,  as  she  jabbered 
along  in  her  quaint  way,  that  he  seemed  to  forget. 

They  continued  their  walk  up  the  hill  until  they 
reached  the  summit;  here  they  paused  to  admire 
the  beautiful  landscape  that  lay  before  them — 
the  wooded  slopes,  the  broad,  green  valleys  and 
the  foaming,  rushing,  murmuring  water — far  below 
them.  After  resting  a  while,  they  descended  the 
opposite  side  of  the  mountain,  until  they  nearly 
reached  the  bottom,  where  another  road  coming 
from  the  base  of  the  hill  crossed  the  one  they  were 
on,  and  continued  on  to  their  right,  curving  around 
a  hill  in  the  distance.  The  road  they  were  on  ran 
straight  down  and  crossed  the  creek  a  little 
distance  in  front  of  them,  and  then  disappeared 
between  two  hills  on  the  opposite  side. 

"Which  way  shall  we  go  now?"  Bill  asked  hes 
itatingly,  as  they  stopped  at  the  cross-roads. 
"There  are  three  to  choose  from." 

"Well,"  Jessie  began,  "this  one  to  the  left  goes 
back  to  the  mill,  only  it's  much  longer.  I  think 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        203 

we  had  better  go  home  that  way;  there's  more 
trees  along  it,  and  it  will  be  cooler  this  after 
noon.  It's  beginninng  to  get  warm  now.  The 
road  crossing  the  creek  doesn't  go  very  far;  it 
stops  somewhere  behind  those  hills.  This  one  to 
the  right  (she  paused  a  moment),  I  don't  know 
exactly  where  it  goes;  I  don't  come  over  here  very 
often.  Once  I  went  on  that  road  with  father  in 
the  cart;  but  I  don't  remember  much  about  it." 

" Let's  try  it  anyway,"  Bill  suggested.  "One 
way  will  do  as  well  as  another." 

"No,"  Jessie  disapproved.  "Let's  go  down  by 
the  creek  and  eat  our  lunch,  and  have  that  over 
with,  so  I  can  get  rid  of  this  box.  Then  we'll 
decide  what  to  do." 

"Jessie,  why  don't  you  let  me  carry  the  box 
a  while?" 

"No.    I'll  carry  it.    Come  on." 

So  they  walked  down  toward  the  stream,  and 
after  selecting  a  suitable  place  beneath  the  shade 
trees,  sat  down  and  ate  the  lunch  which  Jessie  had 
carefully  prepared,  with  the  sound  of  the  moun 
tain  stream  rushing  among  the  rocks  for  their 
orchestra. 

"If  I  had  only  thought  to  bring  my  pole;  I 
might  do  some  fishing,"  Bill  remarked,  after  they 
had  finished  their  repast. 

"We  can  go  fishing  next  Sunday,  if  you  like," 
Jessie  responded  pleasantly.  "Let's  just  sit  here 
in  the  shade  a  while  and  rest.  I  like  to  hear  the 


204  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

water;  don't  you?  Sometimes  I  sit  and  listen  to 
it  by  the  hour." 

"Yes,  I  always  like  to  hear  it.  It's  like  music. 
Do  you  ever  go  fishing,  Jessie?" 

"Yes;  but  I  never  catch  anything.  Father 
says  I  haven't  patience.  Well,  I  guess  men  make 
the  best  fishermen  anyhow.  Father  always  brings 
home  a  lot  every  time  he  goes;  and  so  do  you." 

For  a  long  time  the  boy  and  the  girl  sat  by  the 
creek  talking,  and  enjoying  the  beautiful  summer 
day.  At  length  Jessie  proposed  that  they  continue 
their  walk,  which  Bill  agreed  to  do. 

"Which  way  shall  we  go?"  Jessie  asked,  not 
being  able  to  decide  for  herself. 

"Let's  try  the  road  crossing  the  creek;  it  looks 
pretty  over  there." 

"But  it  doesn't   go   very  far,"  Jessie   objected. 

"Well,  we  don't  want  to  go  very  much  further. 
We'll  have  a  long  walk  home." 

"All  right!  Come  on!"  Jessie  jumped  up  as 
she  spoke  and  was  ready  to  start.  Bill  followed 
her  example.  They  advanced  toward  the  bridge, 
and  after  crossing  it  continued  along  the  other 
side.  At  the  left  was  a  broad,  green  pasture;  an 
old  cow  was  peacefully  grazing  on  the  sweet 
grass.  She  looked  up  at  them  •  as  they  passed, 
for  a  moment,  and  then  continued  nibbling  the 
green  grass.  After  the  two  had  gone  as  far  as 
they  cared  to  on  this  road,  they  returned  and, 
re-crossing  the  bridge,  ascended  the  road  until 
they  again  stood  at  the  cross-roads. 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS       205 

"Shall  we  go  home  the  long  way?"  Jessie  asked. 
"It  will  be  cooler." 

"All  right,"  he  consented.  "But  let's  sit  down 
here  and  rest  a  little  first." 

Thus  they  sat  down  on  the  dry  grass  by  the 
roadside,  where  it  was  shady,  to  rest  for  a  time. 

"Some  one  has  been  camping  here.  See  the 
place  where  they  cooked  their  meals."  Jessie 
pointed  at  a  heap  of  blackened  rocks  a  short  dis 
tance  away.  "And  there  is  a  rope  hanging  to  that 
tree,  where  they  tied  their  horses." 

"Yes.  It's  a  nice  place  to  camp.  Come  now," 
he  added,  after  resting  sufficiently.  "If  we're 
going  the  long  road,  we  better  get  started;  or  we 
won't  get  home  in  time  for  supper." 

Both  stood  up  and  started  on  their  homeward 
journey,  by  the  lower  road;  but  had  only  gone  a 
short  way  when  Jessie  suddenly  stopped  and  said 
abruptly : 

"Wait!  I  must  get  a  drink  or  I'll  die — before 
ever  I  can  get  home."  With  that  she  turned  and 
ran  off  toward  the  creek.  Bill  watched  her  until 
she  disappeared  from  sight,  behind  some  willow 
bushes  near  the  stream.  It  was  only  a  moment 
though  until  she  re-appeared,  looking  excited.  Bill 
saw  her  running  up  the  road  as  fast  as  she  could 
come,  until  she  was  within  hailing  distance.  He 
wondered  if  anything  was  wrong. 

"Can  you  swim?'  she  excitedly  called. 

"A  little,"  he  cried  wonderingly. 

"Then  come  quick!"    Thus  she  turned  and  again 


206  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

hurried  back  in  the  same  direction  she  had  pre 
viously  gone. 

At  her  call,  Bill  started  running  toward  the 
river,  not  knowing  what  possibly  could  excite 
his  companion  so  greatly.  When  he  reached  her 
she  was  standing  by  the  creek,  a  little  below  the 
road,  near  where  they  had  eaten  their  lunch,  look 
ing  intently  into  the  water. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  he  asked,  after  reaching 
her  side. 

"There  is  something  or  somebody  in  there, 
somewhere;  I  don't  know  what,"  she  excitedly  re 
plied.  "I  just  got  a  glimpse  of  it  as  it  fell  off 
that  ledge  of  rock,"  pointing  to  the  opposite  side 
of  the  creek,  where  the  mountain-side  came  down 
rather  abruptly  to  the  water's  edge.  A  few  feet 
from  the  bottom  was  a  narrow  ledge  of  rock,  just 
wide  enough  to  give  passage  to  a  pedestrian. 

"Maybe  it  was  a  rock  falling  down  the  moun 
tain-side.  ' ' 

"No,  it  wasn't  a  rock;  a  rock  couldn't  scream 
the  way  it  did,  whatever  it  was." 

"Maybe  some  one's  fallen " 

"There  it  is!"  Jessie  cried,  pointing.  "Over 
there!  It's  a  man's  head  or  a  boy's — just  sticking 
out  of  the  water  a  little,  between  those  rocks! 
See  it?  What  shall  we  do?"  wringing  her  hands. 
"Shall  I  jump  in?" 

"No,  don't!  I'll  go  in,"  he  expostulated  hur 
riedly,  removing  his  coat  and  making  ready  to  go 
into  the  water. 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        207 

"Wait!"  the  other  cautioned,  stopping  the 
youth  just  in  time  to  prevent  him  taking  a  bath. 
"Let's  cross  over  those  stones  to  the  other  side; 
then  we  can  get  him  out  without  you  going  into 
the  water." 

"Well,  hurry  then!"  Bill  started  jumping  from 
rock  to  rock,  with  Jessie  following,  until  they 
reached  the  opposite  side,  where  the  head  lay  ex 
posed  between  the  rocks.  At  length  they  suc 
ceeded  in  getting  the  boy — for  such  it  proved  to 
be,  a  boy  of  perhaps  eleven  years — on  dry  ground. 
A  fish-basket  hung  over  one  shoulder. 

"I  wonder  if  he's  dead  or  alive!"  Jessie  ex 
claimed. 

"I  don't  know;  he  doesn't  seem  very  lively," 
was  Bill's  solemn  remark.  They  both  stood  look 
ing  down  at  the  unconscious,  water-soaked  child, 
who  lay  as  if  in  death.  "What  shall  we  do?" 

"Stand  him  on  his  head!"  Jessie  suggested 
quickly.  ' '  Maybe  some  of  the  water  will  run  out. ' ' 

Bill,  not  knowing  what  else  to  do,  stooped  and 
lifting  the  boy,  stood  him  on  his  head. 

"Squeeze  him!"     Another  order  from  Jessie. 

Bill  squeezed  him. 

"That's  the  way  they  do  when  people  are 
drowned,  or  nearly  so  I  mean,"  Jessie  corrected 
herself. 

"I'm  afraid  he's  dead,"  muttered  Bill.  Jessie's 
experiments  failed  to  restore  the  lad. 

"Put    him    down!"      Another    command    from 


208  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

Jessie.     "I  don't  know  what  else  we  possibly  can 
do;   do  you?" 

"I  think  perhaps  we  had  better  carry  him  up 
into  the  sunshine;  that  might  revive  him.  This 
shady  place  never  will." 

''Well,  come  on." 

So  together  they  managed  to  carry  the  boy, 
Bill  taking  the  upper  part  of  the  body  and  Jessie 
the  feet,  until  they  reached  the  road  by  the  bridge. 
Then  Jessie  said:  "Put  him  down  a  minute;  I 
must  rest;  I'm  not  strong  like  you  are." 

Thus  they  dropped  the  inert  body  on  the  grass 
by  the  roadside,  until  the  girl  was  sufficiently 
rested  to  continue ;  after  which  they  gathered  their 
burden  up  and  stumbled  along,  over  the  bridge, 
and  up  the  road,  until  they  reached  the  cross 
roads  again. 

"I  can't  go  any  further,"  gasping,  out  of 
breath.  "Put  him  down  here  in  the  sun;  and  if 
he  don't  come  to  I  can't  help  it.  I've  done  all  I 
can  do." 

After  selecting  a  sunny  spot,  they  again  placed 
the  boy  on  the  grass  by  the  roadside,  and  stood 
looking  down  at  him,  not  knowing  whether  he  was 
dead  or  alive. 

"I  hope  he'll  come  to  all  right,"  said  Bill  sol 
emnly.  "I  hate  to  see  anyone  die."  It  reminded 
him  of  another  dead  boy  that  he  had  gazed  upon — 
what  seemed  years  ago.  "It  seems  to  me  that  my 
life  is  besieged  with  dead  people,  just  as  yours  is 
with  murderers,"  he  added  softly,  stooping  and 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFOKNIA  REDWOODS       209 

removing  the  fish-basket  from  the  boy's  shoulder. 

"Why?  What  other  dead  people  have  you  had  to 
deal  with?'' 

The  former  quickly  saw  his  mistake,  but  in 
answering  said:  "W-well,  the  dead  man  in  the 
cabin. ' ' 

"He  wasn't  dead  though." 

"I  know,  but  it  seems  as  though  he  was." 

"Well,  what  others?"  Jessie  spoke  as  though 
she  expected  to  hear  of  at  least  a  dozen  others. 

"T-hat's  all,"  he  stammered.  Bill  felt  that  it 
was  best  not  to  tell  of  all  the  dead  people  that  he 
had  come  in  contact  with. 

"Well,  then  there  ain't  any,  because  this  one 
ain't  dead  yet — at  least  I  don't  think  he  is.  So 
you  can't  keep  up  with  me  after  all." 

Meanwhile  time  was  passing  and  nothing  was 
being  done  to  help  the  unfortunate  lad. 

"There's  a  mark  on  his  forehead.  I  guess  he's 
only  stunned.  Don't  you  think  so?" 

"Yes,  if  he  ain't  drowned  along  with  it." 

"If  we  could  only  get  him  over  by  the  mill, 
some  one  over  there  might  know  what  to  do," 
with  a  sigh,  eager  to  do  all  she  could  for  the  un 
fortunate  lad. 

"If  we  only  had  a  horse,  we  could  put  the  boy 
on  his  back,  and  take  him  somewhere — I  don't 
know  just  where  though;  it's  a  long  way  to  the 
mill." 

"Why  didn't  we  think  to  bring  Dolly?"  Jessie 
interrupted. 


210  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

"It's  no  use  to  wish  for  things,  Jessie,"  the 
other  thoughtfully  added. 

"There's  that  cow  over  there  in  the  pasture 
where  we  were  a  while  ago,"  the  thoughtful  girl 
suggested.  "I  wonder  if  she  would  mind?" 

"No,  Jessie.  You  couldn't  do  anything  with  a, 
cow." 

"Well,  we  might  try.  She  might  do  it  when 
she  finds  out  what  the  trouble  is." 

"I'm  afraid  it  would  be  useless.  He  seems  to 
be  dead  anyhow;  he  doesn't  move  at  all." 

"Well,  come;  if  he's  dead,  we  may  as  well  go 
along  home;  it's  getting  late.  I've  done  all  I 
could." 

"No,  you  can't  go  away  and  leave  him,  even  if 
he  is  dead.  That  wouldn't  be  right." 

"Look,  quick!  He  opened  his  mouth;  he  wants 
to  say  something!  Oh!  if  we  could  only  do  some 
thing!" 

"Tell  me  what  to  do  and  I'll  do  it,"  Bill  replied 
sorrowfully.  "If  somebody  would  only  come 
along!" 

"I'll  get  the  cow,  anyway,  and  we'll  see  what 
we  can  do  with  her.  I'd  rather  be  doing  some 
thing  than  standing  here;  then  we'll  feel  better." 
Thus  she  started  down  the  road,  as  fast  as  she 
could  go,  and  after  crossing  the  bridge  disap 
peared  behind  the  trees  that  bordered  the  pasture. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  youth  saw  the  cow  come 
up  from  the  pasture  and  slowly  cross  the  bridge, 
his  friend  following. 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        211 

"Go  along,  Boss;  go  along,  Boss!"  he  could 
hear  her  saying  to  the  cow,  as  she  crossed  the 
bridge.  Boss  advanced  nicely,  but  very  slowly 
and  deliberately — she  certainly  believed  in  taking 
her  time — chewing  her  cud  as  she  advanced. 

4 'She's  a  poky  old  thing.  I  had  a  hard  time 
to  get  her  to  come  at  first,"  calling  when  she  was 
within  hailing  distance;  "but  finally  I  ran  over 
where  she  was  in  the  pasture  and  I  said,  'Go 
along  Boss!'  as  though  I  meant  it;  then  she 
started." 

"She's  comin'  all  right,"  he  called  back  hope 
fully.  "Isn't  she  a  big  cow  though?  I  don't 
believe  I  ever  saw  such  a  big  cow." 

"Yes,"  was  the  quick  response.  "But  now  that 
I've  got  her  started,  can  we  ever  stop  her?" 

"I'll  stop  here  when  she  gets  here.  Whoa, 
Boss!"  he  said,  a  moment  later  when  the  cow  had 
finally  reached  the  desired  spot.  Boss  very  oblig 
ingly  stopped,  and  stood  there  quietly  chewing 
her  cud. 

"Good!"  Jessie  approved,  as  she  also  stopped. 
"Now  I  believe  we  shall  have  no  further  trouble. 
She  seems  so  gentle  and  nice.  I'm  glad  I  thought 
of  her." 

"She  may  do  it,"  doubtfully. 

"Now,  shall  I  get  on  first,  or  will  you?" 

"Jessie!"  in  amazement.  "I  hope  you  don't 
think  we're  all  going  to  ride!" 

"Why  not?  Not  that  I'm  anxious  to;  but  some 
body's  got  to  go  along;  you  can't  send  him  off 


212  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

alone;  he'd  fall  off.  If  you've  got  a  better  plan, 
why,  all  right.  When  there's  a  man  around  I 
believe  in  lettin'  him  run  things. " 

"I  was  going  to  put  the  boy  on  the  cow's 
back,  and  walk  along  beside  and  hold  him  on. 
You  never  could  ride  a  cow." 

"Maybe  that'll  do  just  as  well,"  she  replied, 
satisfied.  "But  one  time,  when  we  were  going  to 
school,  an  old  cow  came  along — if  I'm  not  mis 
taken,  this  is  the  same  one — and  a  lot  of  us  got  on 
her  and  had  a  ride.  She  didn't " 

"Don't  stop  to  tell  it  now!  Let's  do  something 
with  this  boy!" 

"Oh,  yes.    How  is  he — any  better?" 

Both  turned  around  from  the  cow  to  see  how  the 
boy  was.  He  still  lay  quietly  on  the  grass,  just  as 
they  had  left  him,  with  a  deathlike  pallor  on  his 
childish  face. 

"We  must  do  something  quick,"  Jessie  advised, 
"or  he  will  surely  die.  Is  he  gettin'  any  warmer? 
If  he  is,  he  may  live;  if  he  gets  colder,  he's  dying. 
Feel  him." 

The  other  stooped  and  felt  the  boy's  face,  then 
his  hands.  "He's  cold  as  ice,"  was  the  disappoint 
ing  reply. 

"Then  he's  dead,"  the  girl  concluded.  "We 
can 't  do  anything.  I  '11  take  the  cow  back.  No ! 
Look!  He  opened  his  eyes;  he  can't  be  dead. 
Let's  put  him  on  the  cow's  back.  I  hope  she 
won't  start  to  kick  when  we  put  him  on." 

"That's  just  what  I'm  afraid  of,"  Bill   agreed, 


STOKY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        213 

rising  to  his  feet  and  looking  again  toward  the 
cow,  which  stood  quietly  chewing  her  cud  in  the 
center  of  the  road.  '  "I  never  could  do  anything 
with  a  cow ;  they  always  get  to  kicking  or  run 
ning,  whenever  I  tried  to  do  anything  with  them." 

"I  don't  believe  she'll  kick,"  was  the  optimistic 
response.  "She  stands  so  quietly." 

"You  never  can  tell,  though,"  hesitatingly.  "A 
cow's  the  most  uncertain  of  animals;  you  can't  tell 
what  minute  she  may  go  chasing  off  down  the 
road.  I  don't  believe  we'd  better  try  it." 

"Why  not?     It  won't  hurt  to  try." 

"Well,  all  right."  Bill  again  stooped  to  gather 
the  boy  in  his  arms  and  place  him  on  the  cow's 
back. 

"Wait!"  abruptly  came  from  his  companion. 
"I'm  going  to  get  that  rope  over  there  on  that 
tree,  and  put  it  around  the  cow.  Then  we'll  have 
something  to  hold  her  with — in  case  she  runs." 

"Yes;  that's  a  good  idea.  I'll  go  and  get  it." 
So  he  ran  to  the  tree,  and,  after  untying  the  rope, 
returned  and  fastened  it  around  the  cow's  horns. 
Then  he  went  over  where  the  boy  lay  and  picked 
him  up.  Jessie  took  the  rope  to  hold  the  cow,  in 
case  she  started  to  run.  Bill  placed  the  boy  very 
carefully,  so  as  not  to  frighten  her.  Everything 
went  nicely.  The  eager  girl  stood  in  front  of  the 
cow  holding  the  rope. 

"Jessie,"  the  youth  cried,  as  he  stood  holding 
the  drooping  child  on  the  animal's  back.  "Don't 


214  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

stand  in  front  of  her;  she  may  take  a  notion  to 
run  any  minute." 

"Never  mind!  If  she  runs,  I'll  run,  too,5'  she 
returned,  fearlessly.  "Have  you  got  him  fixed?" 

"Yes,"  was  the  response,  as  he  finally  arranged 
the  boy  on  the  cow's  back  to  the  best  of  his  ability, 
and  holding  him  to  keep  him  from  falling  off.  Boss 
offered  no  objection  whatever,  as  she  stood  perfect 
ly  motionless,  except  for  the  rhythmical  movement 
of  her  lower  jaw. 

"Now,  if  you're  ready,  we  better  get  started. 
Go  easy  with  her." 

"All  right,  I'm  ready.  No,  wait!  There's  the 
basket;  I'll  get  it,"  stooping  to  pick  up  the  boy's 
fish-basket. 

"Never  mind  it,"  the  other  answered,  provok- 
ingly.  "We've  got  enough  already." 

"Yes,  I'll  get  it;  I  can  just  as  well  take  it  as 
not.  I'll  hang  it  down  my  back."  So  she,  after 
picking  up  the  b-asket,  placed  the  strap  over  her 
head,  allowing  the  basket  to  hang  down  her  back. 
Then  she  quickly  took  hold  of  the  rope  again. 

"Now  hurry,  Jessie;  whenever  you're  ready, 
start  her  along,"  the  youth  expostulated. 

"I'm  ready;  and  I'm  anxious  to  see  how  this 
thing's  going  to  turn  out." 

"Well,  go  ahead." 

"Now,  which  way  shall  we  go?" 

Bill  made  no  reply,  but  was  busy  thinking,  with 
an  undecided  expression  on  his  face. 

"We  never  can  go  over  the  hill,   with  all  this 


STOKY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        215 

performance;  if  we  go  around  the  hill,  it's  so  far 
the  boy  would  surely  die  before  we  ever  get  there ; 
if  we  go  to  the  left,  I  don't  know  where  we'd  go 
to.  I  haven't  been  out  there  much." 

"I  don't  see  much  choice.  Let's  do  something; 
then  we'll  feel  better  satisfied." 

"I'm  goin'  straight  ahead;  then  we  won.'t  have 
to  turn  around.  Besides,  that  looks  like  the  best 
road."  Thus  the  girl  proceeded  to  start  the  cow 
ahead — to  the  left,  on  the  unknown  road.  "Come, 
Boss!"  she  cried,  giving  the  rope  a  pull.  "Come, 
Boss!"  But  Boss  would  not  come.  "Come,  I 
say!"  she  repeated,  giving  the  rope  another  violent 
pull;  but  Boss  would  not  budge  an  inch.  She 
quietly  and  calmly  stood,  just  as  she  had  done 
through  it  all,  with  eyes  almost  closed,  and  still 
chewing  her  cud. 

"What  shall  we  do?"  Bill  asked.  "She  won't 
come." 

"Go  behind  and  push  her,  while  I  pull,"  his 
companion  shouted — she  was  getting  vexed.  "Some 
times,  when  you  can't  start  a  cow  from  the  front, 
you  can  from  the  back ;  so  we  '11  have  her,  which 
ever  way  it  is." 

"I  can't!  I'm  afraid  if  I  leave  him,  he'll  fall 
off."  Bill  had  the  boy  astride  the  cow,  with  the 
upper  part  of  his  body  leaning  forward. 

"I  can't  help  it.  We've  got  to  get  started  some 
way.  It'll  be  midnight  before  we  get  home,  if  we 
don't  get  started  soon." 

The  former  left  the  boy's  side,  and  went  behind 


216  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

the  cow  and  pushed,  while  the  girl  pulled  in  front; 
but  all  to  no  avail.  For  all  the  old  cow  cared,  they 
may  have  been  a  hundred  miles  away. 

"It's  no  use,"  he  finally  said,  returning  to  the 
boy's  side  to  again  support  him.  "She  won't  go." 

"Come,  Boss;  come,  Boss!"  Jessie  continued, 
jerking  the  rope  violently  with  both  arms.  I  don't 
see  how  I  ever  got  her  to  come  this  far,  so  easy; 
she's  such  a  mule."  With  that  she  dropped  the 
rope  from  her  hands  entirely.  "Besides,  I  feel 
water  running  dowrn  my  back  from  somewhere. ' ' 

"It's  that  basket!  Take  it  off !"  her  friend  com 
manded,  severely.  "Don't  you  know  it's  been  in 
the  river?" 

"I  guess  I  will,"  she  replied,  quickly,  also  stop 
ping  and  removing  the  strap  from  over  her  head. 
"Where  shall  I  put  it?"  She  looked  around,  won 
dering  what  to  do  with  the  basket. 

"Leave  it  here!"  Bill  ordered. 

"No,  I  won't!  I'm  not  coming  clear  back  alter 
this  basket.  I'll  put  it  here."  "Here"  meant  the 
cow's  horn,  where  she  hung  the  basket. 

"Be  careful,  or  you'll  scare  her!" 

"I  don't  think  there's  much  danger,"  she  re 
sponded,  softly.  "How's  the  boy?" 

"I  think  he's  improvin',"  was  the  encouraging 
replied.  "He's  getting  warmer,"  after  examining 
the  boy. 

"If  we  could  only  get  started!"  Jessie*  again 
took  hold  of  the  rope  for  another  try.  "If  I  only 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS       217 

could  get  her  to  stop  chewing  for  a  minute,  I  think 
I  could  get  her  to  start." 

"There — now  she's  stopped!"  he  exclaimed,  a 
minute  later. 

"Come  quick!"  abruptly  came  from  Jessie,  as 
she  gave  the  rope  a  violent  jerk;  but  for  once  she 
was  not  quick  enough.  The  cow  had  already  re 
ceived  a  fresh  supply,  and  was  quietly  chewing 
again. 

Just  then  the  boy  moved. 

"He's  gettting  better.  I  think,  if  we  wait,  who 
ever  this  cow  belongs  to  will  come;  it's  milking 
time  now." 

"You  can  wait,  if  you  want  to;  but  I'm  goin' 
to  make  this  cow  move,  if  I  have  to  kick  her." 
Jessie  never  liked  to  give  up  when  once  she  under 
took  a  task.  "Here,  stick  her  with  this."  She  pro 
duced  a  pin  from  her  dress  and  handed  it  to  Bill. 

"No,  Jessie;  you  may  start  her  to  kicking,  if  you 
do  that,"  he  cautioned. 

"Well,  let  her  kick.  Anything 's  better  than 
having  her  stand  there  like  a  frozen  image." 

"Look!  Some  one's  coming,"  the  youth  cried, 
gladly,  looking  down  the  road.  His  companion 
turned  and  did  likewise.  A  man  was  slowly  and 
deliberately  walking  up  the  unknown  road  "Com 
ing  much  the  same  as  the  cow  had  come,"  Bill 
thought,  as  he  watched  the  man  slowly  advancing 
toward  them,  "even  to  the  chewing." 

' '  What  is  the  trouble  ? ' '  the  man  asked,  calmly, 


218  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

when  he  saw  the  boy  sprawled  over  the  cow's 
back. 

"We  found  this  boy  in  the  creek,"  Jessie  an 
swered,  quickly.  "He  fell  in  and  was  nearly 
drowned.  We're  trying  to  get  him — somewhere." 

"Why,  it's  Harry,"  the  man  replied,  unmoved, 
coming  closer  and  lifting  the  boy  to  an  upright 
position.  The  man,  to  all  outward  appearances, 
was  as  unaffected  as  though  nothing  had  happened 
to  his  child.  "He  should  have  been  home  long 
ago  with  the  cow;  and,  wondering  what  delayed 
him,  I  came  along  to  see." 

"Papa,"  suddenly  came  from  the  boy's  lips.  All 
were  pleasantly  surprised.  The  boy  could  speak; 
there  was  no  further  need  for  alarm. 

"I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  doing  what  you 
have  done,"  the  man  drawled,  as  if  it  were  too 
much  trouble  to  speak.  "You  have  done  every 
thing  just  right.  The  children  often,  when  they 
have  been  fishing,  upon  bringing  the  cow  home 
from  pasture,  hang  their  fish-baskets  over  the 
horns — just  as  you  have  done — and  then  all  pile  on 
and  ride  home.  Sometimes  they  even  drape  her 
with  ferns.  You  can  do  anything  in  the  world 
with  her." 

"She  seems  real  gentle,"  Bill  ventured. 

"Oh,  yes;  we're  ALL  just  like  that,"  with  em 
phasis  on  the  "all,"  as  if  the  cow  were  one  of  the 
family. 

"Yes;  but  we  can't  make  her  GO."  Jessie  spoke 
with  much  vexation. 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        219 

"Oh,  yes,"  the  man  replied,  decidedly;  "she'll 
go  without  any  trouble.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to 
say,  '  Go  along,  Boss ! '  " 

"I'll  try  it,"  Jessie  abruptly  said.  "Go  along, 
Boss!  Go  along,  Boss!"  And  with  that  "Boss," 
very  slowly,  of  course,  and  deliberately,  walked 
off  down  the  road,  with  the  fish-basket  dangling 
over  one  horn,  the  rope  from  the  other,  and  the 
boy  on  her  back,  the  latter  having  recovered  suffi 
ciently  to  enjoy  his  homeward  ride. 

"Oh!"  Jessie  suddenly  exclaimed.  "That's  the 
way  I  got  her  here  in  the  first  place.  Don't  you 
remember?  I  told  her  to  'Go  along!'  I've  been 
wonderin'  through  it  all,  how  I  got  her  to  move 
in  the  first  place."  Yes,  Boss  had  been  true  to  her 
nature;  she  had  been  educated  "to  go"  and  not 
"to  come." 

Then  the  man,  after  thanking  them  again,  slowly 
followed  down  the  road  at  the  same  deliberate  pace 
in  which  he  had  come. 

"Now,  you  see  my  plan  was  best,  after  all.  If 
we  had  hung  the  basket  on  her  horn  in  the  first 
place,  and  all  piled  on,  as  I  said,  and  told  her  to 
go  along,  we  should  have  had  no  further  trouble.  I 
should  never  have  thought  of  the  ferns,  though; 
but  perhaps  we  would  have  got  along  just  as  well 
without  them.  Now,  I  believe  that's  the  same 
cow  we  used  to  ride  at  school.  I  don't  see  how 
she  ever  got  away  over  here,  though." 

"Come,  Jessie;  we  must  hurry.  It'll  be  dark 
long  before  we  get  home."  The  sun  had  already 


220  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

sunk  behind  the  distant  trees,  and  was  not  far 
from  its  settting.  The  cool  of  the  evening  was 
coming  on,  and  the  two  were  many  miles  from 
home.  Bill  turned,  ready  to  start.  "I  guess  he'll 
be  all  right  now,"  he  said,  gladly. 

"Yes,"  Jessie  said,  still  watching  the  departing 
procession.  "I  told  you  he  was  only  stunned." 

Bill  wished  that  such  another  case  of  "stunning" 
had  turned  out  as  pleasantly.  "Come,  Jessie.  Why 
don't  you  come?" 

"Wait!  I  want  to  see  them  go  around  the  hill 
first.  Why,  do  you  know,  one  time  at  school  a  boy 
was  stunned  by  a  baseball,  and  he  was  unconscious 
for  eight  hours.  Everybody  thought  he  was  dead, 
for  a  long  time ;  but  he  recovered  all  right.  Come, 
now."  She  turned  just  as  the  cow  and  boy  dis 
appeared  around  the  hill,  and  was  ready  to  start. 
"Which  way  shall  we  go?" 

"We'll  go  over  the  hill;  don't  stop  to  argue. 
The  sun's  nearly  set  now." 

So  they  hurried  off  up  the  same  road  they  had 
come  in  the  morning,  as  fast  as  they  could  go. 

"I  can't  see  but  what  everything's  turned  out 
very  nicely,"  Jessie  said,  pleasingly.  "If  granny 
don't  have  a  fit  before  I  get  home." 

"We'll  get  there  as  fast  as  we  can,"  was  the 
hopeful  reply,  as  he  started  with  long  strides  up 
the  hill. 

They  had  only  gone  a  few  paces,  though,  when 
Jessie  suddenly  stopped  short.  "Wait!"  she  said, 
abruptly.  And  with  that  she  turned  and  started 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFOENIA  EEDWOODS       221 

running  back  in  the  direction  whence  they  had  so 
lately  come,  as  fast  as  her  legs  could  carry  her. 

"Jessie!"  Bill  called  after  her,  provokingly. 
"What  are  you  going  to  do  now?" 

"I  MUST  get  my  drink,"  she  called  back  over 
her  shoulder,  as  she  sped  toward  the  creek. 


222  BILL'S  MISTAKE 


XVI. 

THE  REAL  ANARCHIST. 

"I  had  a  caller  today,"  Jessie  called  to  her 
friend,  as  he  came  up  from  the  mill.  She  was 
waiting  at  the  fork  for  him,  after  her  afternoon 
walk,  gathering  flowers. 

"Who?"  he  asked,  as  they  started  up  the  hill 
together. 

"A  young  gentleman.  Ahem!  A  very,  very 
brave  young  gentleman,"  smiling. 

"Joe?" 

"Yes.  Ha!  ha!"  She  evidently  considered  it 
as  quite  a  joke.  "I'll  tell  you  about  it:  I  was 
sitting  on  the  front  porch  this  afternoon,  reading, 
when  I  happened  to  look  down  where  we  can  see 
the  road  coming  up  the  hill.  I  saw  a  man  riding 
in  a  cart  up  the  hill;  I  wondered  who  it  could  be. 
Just  as  he  turned  into  the  gateway,  I  saw  who  it 
was.  I  quickly  went  inside,  and  shut  the  door. 
Looking  out  of  the  window,  I  saw  him  tie  his  horse 
to  the  ring  on  the  corner  of  the  barn,  and  then  he 
started  toward  the  house.  I  sat  down  in  a  chair 
near  the  door  to  wait  for  him.  In  a  few  seconds 
I  heard  him  rapping  on  the  door.  I  sat  quietly, 
and  let  him  knock,  three  times;  then  I  got  up  to 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        223 

go  to  the  door;  but  I  no  sooner  reached  my  feet 
than  the  door  opened,  and  he  stood  in  the  door 
way.  If  he'd  come  a  second  sooner,  he'd  found 
me  seated  peacefully  in  the  chair,  gazing  at  the 
door.  Ha !  ha  ! 

"  'How  do  you  do?'  he  said,  with  one  of  those 
lordly  bows  of  his.  I  thought  he  would  sweep  the 
floor  with  his  hat.  I  bowed  stiffly.  'I — I  forgot 
something/  he  said,  'when  I  left  in  such  a  hurry, 
and  I've  come  to  get  it,  if  you'll  let  me  look  in  the 
room.'  Now,  I  know  well  enough  that  there  was 
nothing  left;  I've  thoroughly  cleaned  the  room. 
Anyway,  I  told  him  to  go  and  look  in  the  room,  if 
he  wanted  to.  I  thought  it  would  be  a  good  way 
to  get  rid  of  him. 

"  'Well,  I'll  sit  down  and  talk  a  little  first;  you 
must  be  lonely  up  here  alone.  Is  that  boy  here 
yet?'  I  said  that  there  was  no  one  here  besides 
ourselves,  except  a  young  man  who  works  at  the 
sawmill;  and,  what's  more,  I  also  said  that  there 
had  been  no  boys  here  since  HE  left,  except  a 
little  fellow  of  five.  Then  he  started  to  enter; 
but  I  got  in  the  way.  'Go  and  get  what  you  left, 
first,  and  then  you  can  return,'  I  said,  as  though 
I  meant  it. 

"So  he  left  and  went  to  his  room;  but  soon  re 
turned,  without  even  entering  the  cabin.  When 
he  got  back  I  had  completely  disappeared.  Ha! 
ha!"  At  this  Jessie  leaned  forward  in  order  that 
she  might  the  better  relieve  her  feelings.  "He 
came  back  on  the  porch,  and,  after  rapping  once, 


224  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

opened  the  door  and  walked  in — only  to  find  me — 
gone !  After  a  little  he  came  out  on  the  porch 
again,  and  sat  down — doubtless  to  admire  our 
beautiful  scenery;  then  he  got  up  and  went  to  his 
cart,  climbed  in  and  drove  off,  down  the  hill.  I 
saw  the  whole  thing  from  my  window  upstairs. 

"Then  I  came  down  stairs,  and  sat  on  the  porch 
to  resume  my  reading,  where  I  had  been  inter 
rupted.  I  got  there  just  in  time  to  see  him  driving 
along  below  the  hill.  Then  he  disappeared;  I  don't 
know  what  could  have  become  of  him.  I  hoped 
that  some  of  those  things  got  him — whatever  you 
called  them." 

"Anarchists,"  Bill  answered.  "Joe  came  down 
to  the  mill,  Jessie.  That's  why  you  didn't  see  him 
go  down  the  road.  He  came  to  tell  me  about  the 
man  that  was  arrested." 

"Oh,  did  he?    What  did  he  say?" 

"He  wasn't  the  man  in  the  cabin  at  all.  This 
man  couldn't  speak  a  word  of  English;  and  Joe 
said  that  the  man  in  the  cabin  spoke  good  English. 
None  of  us  thought  of  that,  the  other  day,  when 
he  was  arrested."  Bill  smiled.  "So,  now,  nobody 
knows  who  the  man  in  the  cabin  could  have  been. 
Joe's  come  up  to  investigate." 

"I  wonder  who  it  could  have  been?"  Jessie 
asked,  curiously.  "I'd  give  most  anything  to 
know." 

Meanwhile,  having  ascended  the  hill  and  entered 
the  vineyard,  the  two  paused  before  Bill's  cabin 
to  finish  their  conversation. 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  EEDWOODS        225 

"Do  you  want  to  go  for  a  walk  after  supper?" 
Jessie  asked,  friendly,  of  Bill.  "If  so,  I'll  hurry 
supper.  I  only  had  a  short  walk  this  afternoon, 
and  it's  grand  today." 

"Yes,  I'll  go,"  was  the  cheerful  reply,  as  he 
turned  toward  his  cabin. 

So,  accordingly,  after  supper,  Jessie  and  her 
guest  started  for  a  walk,  through  the  woods,  at 
the  close  of  a  glorious  summer  day. 

"I've  got  something  to  tell  you,"  Jessie  com 
menced. 

"What  is  it?" 

"Something  you  won't  like;  I  don't,  either." 

"Tell  me,  anyway." 

"I'm  goin'  away  again,"  sadly. 

"To  your  sister?" 

"No;  I'm  goin'  further  than  that.  I'm  goin'  for 
good  this  time.  I'm  afraid  you'll  never  see  me 
again." 

Bill  looked  serious.  "Has  you  father  sold  the 
vineyard?" 

"Oh,  no,  not  that;  but  I'm  going  away  to  school. 
Father  says  I  need  to  get  civilized.  Besides,  he 
pays  I've  been  real  good,  so  if  I  want  to,  I  can 
go  away  to  school.  Sister's  comin'  up  here  to 
live,  so  I  wron't  be  needed  so  much  now.  She  gets 
so  lonely  down  there  she  can't  stand  it  alone.  My 
brother-in-law  can  get  off  the  train  here  just  as 
well  as  down  there,  so  it  won't  make  any  differ 
ence  to  him.  I  hate  to  go ;  but  then  I  '11  always 
come  home  Friday  and  stay  until  Sunday." 


22G  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

" Where  are  you  going  to?"  was  the  eager  ques 
tion. 

"I'm  going  to  the  Santa  Cruz  High  School. 
Father's  goin'  to  take  me  down  Sunday;  then  I'm 
going  to  stay  with  some  friends  of  his  that  live 
down  there.  But,  say,  ain't  you  going  back  to 
school,  when  it  opens." 

"I — I'm  afraid  not."  That  was  out  of  the  ques 
tion.  "I'll  have  to  work.  If  you  come  home  Fri 
day,  I'll  see  you  again,  though." 

"That's  so!"  Jessie  responded,  gladly,  as  she 
hurried  up  the  back  steps  into  the  kitchen,  with 
the  other  following.  "I  didn't  think  of  that." 

Sunday  morning  came  all  too  soon,  for  those 
concerned  in  Jessie's  departure  for  school.  It  was 
a  beautiful  morning,  clear  and  cool,  with  a  light 
breeze  blowing  from  the  coast.  The  low-lands,  far 
below,  toward  the  water-front,  were  hidden  with  a 
thick  fog  that  had  come  in  from  the  ocean.  As 
Bill  sat  on  the  front  porch  looking  at  the  scene 
before  him,  it  reminded  him  of  a  great  ocean,  with 
the  mountain  tops  dotted  about  like  islands. 

Soon  Jessie  came  down,  carrying  her  basket, 
ready  for  her  journey.  "I'm  ready  to  go,"  she 
said,  sadly,  as  she  stood  in  the  doorway,  with  her 
basket  in  one  hand  and  her  coat  over  the  other 
arm.  "I  feel  as  if  I  were  going  away  forever,  in 
stead  of  only  five  days." 

"I'm  sorry  to  have  you  go,"  Bill  returned.  "I 
think  your  father's  waiting,  Jessie.  Shall  I  carry 
your  basket  out  to  the  cart?"  He  arose,  and, 


STOKY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        227 

taking  her  traveling  case,  started  toward  the  barn, 
where  Mr.  Anderson,  having  already  harnessed  the 
horse,  stood  waiting  for  his  daughter. 

"I'll  be  along  in  a  minute,"  she  replied,  "as 
soon  as  I  have  a  last  look  at  everything." 

A  few  minutes  later,  the  girl  sat  beside  her 
father  in  the  cart,  and,  after  a  last  sad  farewell 
to  Bill  and  her  grandmother,  who  had  also  come 
out  to  witness  the  departure,  Jessie  left  for  the 
city  by  the  sea. 

They  had  only  gone  a  little  way  when  she  turned 
around  and  called  to  Bill,  who  was  still  standing, 
watching  the  departure: 

"If  you  find  out  to  whom  the  gun  belongs,  let 
me  know." 

"All  right,  Jessie!" 

After  the  cart  with  its  occupants  disappeared 
beyond  the  gateway,  Bill  turned  and  slowly  strayed 
toward  the  cabin;  he  knew  not  what  else  to  do. 
He  went  inside,  and  sat  down  on  his  chair.  He 
already  began  to  feel  lonely.  His  friend  had  gone 
to  school,  the  very  school  he  would  give  so  much 
to  be  able  to  return  to  the  following  day.  But 
that  would  be  impossible ;  he  might  as  well  have 
wished  that  his  awful  mistake  had  not  been  made, 
as  to  wish  that  he  might  return  to  school.  Then 
his  loneliness  grew,  as  he  thought  more  and  more 
of  "poor  Tom"  and  his  cruel  mistake.  It  was 
wretched;  he  could  not  endure  it.  Jumping  up,  he 
grabbed  his  hat  and  went  outside.  Perhaps,  if 


228  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

he  took  a  walk  somewhere  through  the  bright  sun 
shine,  he  would  feel  better. 

The  heartsick  youth  went  plunging  down  the 
hill,  on  down,  past  the  mill,  to  the  creek-bed.  But 
the  feeling  was  the  same;  nothing  could  ever  undo 
that.  He  sighed.  Then  he  went  on  and  on,  stum 
bling  over  the  rocks,  till  he  had  gone  half  a  mile 
down  along  the  creek.  Tired,  he  sat  down  upon  a 
rock  to  rest.  Oh,  but  it  was  awful — to  think  and 
think  about  it,  the  rest  of  his  days.  The  little 
stream  went  past  him  moaning  and  groaning,  as  if 
to  add  to  his  misery.  The  songsters  were  busy 
in  the  tree-tops,  but  it  was  only  a  dirge  that  they 
sang.  Why  could  not  they  have  sung  something 
cheerful?  And  the  little  mountain  flowers,  on 
every  hand,  only  drooped  their  heads,  as  if  they 
would  feel  with  him. 

Then  the  poor  boy  bent  over,  and,  hiding  his 
face  in  his  hands,  began  to  sob:  "I  never  can  stand 
it  here;  I  must  go  away.  If  it  hadn't  been  for 
Jessie,  I  never  could  have  stood  it  this  long.  Yes, 
I'll  go  away."  He  lifted  his  head,  as  if  a  new 
thought  had  suddenly  come  to  him.  "I  believe 
I'll  go  back  and  give  myself  up;  it  wasn't  the  right 
thing  to  do,  to  run  away  like  that — it  was  cow 
ardly.  I'll  give  myself  up,  and  then  I'll  feel  bet 
ter,  even  if  I  am  locked  up." 

He  stood  up  suddenly,  as  if  to  go;  then  he  sat 
down  again,  as  if  not  knowing  what  he  was  doing, 
and  again  put  his  face  in  his  hands. 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        229 

" Hello,  Bill!"  Was  that  a  voice?  He  raised 
his  head  and  listened. 

" Hello,  Bill!"  Yes,  it  was  the  voice  of  some 
one  he  had  known  long  ago.  Oh,  but  it  was  terri 
ble  to  have  such  things  happen.  Or  was  he  losing 
his  mind? 

1 '  Oh,  Bill !     Ain  't  that  you  ? ' '     The  bushes  rustled. 

He  stood  up,  horrified,  and  turned  in  the  direc 
tion  whence  the  voice  had  seemed  to  come.  It  was 
worse  than  ever.  Did  he  believe  in  ghosts,  or  was 
it  in  the  resurrection  of  the  dead? 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?  Why  don't  you 
speak?  Nice  wray  you  treated  the  bunch — going 
away  and  never  saying  a  word  to  any  of  us  where 
you  were  going.  What's  the  matter,  anyway?" 

"Tom!"  Bill  gasped,  almost  inaudibly. 

"Well!"  the  voice  again. 

"Tom!  Is  that  really  you!"  A  change  came 
over  the  face  of  the  mistaken  youth — a  look  of 
relief. 

"I  believe  it  is."  Tom  advanced  toward  Bill. 
"What  are  you  acting  so  queer  about,  anyhow? 
You  look  as  if  you'd  seen  a  ghost!" 

"Tom,  are  you  really  alive?  I  thought  you  was 
dead." 

"Thought  I  was  dead!" 

"Yes.     I  thought  I  killed  you." 

"Thought  you  killed  me!     When?" 

"That  night  when  we  had  the  fight." 

"Did  we  ever  have  a  fight?     I  don't  remember 


230  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

it  if  we  did.  I  always  thought  we  got  along  just 
fine  together." 

"Don't  you  remember  the  night  we  played  cards, 
and  you  called  me  a  cheat,  and  then  we  fought?" 

It  was  all  so  plain  to  Bill  that  he  could  not  quite 
understand  Tom's  indifference. 

"NOW  I  remember!  So  that  was  why  you  went 
away,  was  it?  I've  been  wonderin'  all  summer  why 
you  went  off  like  that.  Yes,  now  I  remember  all 
about  it;  but  I  really  didn't  mean  it.  You  didn't 
need  to  have  got  mad  about  it,  Bill." 

"I  didn't  get  mad.  You  were  the  one  that  got 
mad.  You  rushed  at  me  with  your  bat,  and " 

"Did  I?"  Tom  interrupted.    "So  I  did." 

"When  you  started  at  me  with  your  bat,"  Bill 
continued,  "I  held  the  chair  up  to  protect  myself; 
then  I  tripped  over  the  blanket  and  fell,  with  you 
under  the  chair.  Do  you  remember?" 

"Yes,  I  remember  all  that — now  that  you  speak 
of  it;  but  I  don't  remember  getting  killed!" 

"Well,  of  course,  you  wouldn't  remember  that 
part  of  it.  You  probably  were  knocked  uncon 
scious  for  a  while.  I  picked  you  up  and  put  you 
on  the  bed,  and  covered  you  up  with  that  con 
founded  blanket,  which  caused  all  the  trouble.  I 
did  everything  I  could  for  you,  Tom,  after  which 
I  listened,  and  I  couldn't  hear  your  heart  beat, 
and  you  lay  there  so  quiet — I  never  saw  you  so 
quiet  before,  Tom ;  so  I  made  up  my  mind  you  were 
dead." 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        231 

''Maybe  I  was!  Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  dead 
person  coming  back  to  life,  Bill?" 

"Yes,  Tom,  I  have!"  Bill  honestly  replied.  "Peo 
ple  have  been  dying — or  nearly  so —  around  me  all 
summer,  and  then  coming  back  to  life  again;  and 
yet  I  never  once  thought  that  you  could  have  done 
likewise.  That  night,  when  I  covered  you  up  with 
that  blanket,  I  thought,  just  as  sure  as  anything, 
that  you  were  dead." 

"I  remember  now,  Bill,  the  next  morning,  when 
I  woke  up,  I  wondered  why  I  went  to  bed  with  all 
my  clothes  on;  I  couldn't  seem  to  remember  about 
things.  I  was  glad  enough;  for  once  I  didn't  have 
to  dress." 

"You've  caused  me  a  lot  of  trouble,  Tom." 

"Did  I!"  Tom  said,  sorrowfully.  "Well,  I  didn't 
mean  to.  Forgive  me,  Bill,  won't  you?"  Tom  put 
forth  his  hand,  and  soon  the  two  were  fast  friends 
again. 

"It's  all  right,  Tom.  Now  that  I've  got  you 
back,  I  feel  so  good  again."  He  gave  a  deep  sigh 
of  relief. 

Things  seemed  different  then.  Everything  was 
bright  and  beautiful — the  sunshine,  the  trees  and 
the  flowers.  The  sound  of  the  water  rushing 
among  the  rocks  came  to  his  ears  like  sweet  music, 
and  the  birds  were  singing  as  if  their  souls  were 
filled  with  gladness.  It  was  like  a  great  anthem, 
with  a  host  of  angels  singing. 

Bill  looked  around  at  the  beauties  he  had  failed 
to  notice  until  that  moment.  A  bluejay  was  calling 


232  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

saucily  from  a  tall  redwood.  Was  it  the  same  im 
pudent  fellow  that  he  had  heard  so  often  that 
summer?  This  time  he  seemed  to  be  laughing. 
The  flowers,  too,  had  raised  their  heads  and  seemed 
to  be  smiling.  Bill  looked  at  Tom.  Tom  was 
laughing.  Then  the  joyful  youth,  himself,  relieved 
from  his  long  suffering,  joined  in,  and  the  two 
boyish  voices  rang  out  loudly,  until  they  echoed 
and  re-echoed  through  the  canyon — and  all  over  a 
mistake.  Oh,  but  it  did  seem  good  again  to  laugh 
— the  laugh  of  care-free  youth. 

11  There's  one  thing  more,  Tom,"  Bill  continued, 
when  they  could  laugh  no  more,  "that  I  simply 
must  tell  you;  I  should  have  died  this  summer  if 
it  hadn't  been  for  one  thing." 

"And  what's  that?"  his  companion  asked,  curi 
ously. 

"If  it  hadn't  been  for  Jessie — a  girl  where  I  am 
staying." 

"Ain't  she  the  classiest,  though!  Can't  she 
spiel!"  came  from  Tom,  eagerly. 

Bill  looked  at  Tom  in  amazement.  "Why,  where 
did  you  ever  see  Jessie?" 

"Wasn't  I  up  there?" 

"When?" 

"One  day." 

"Was  you,  Tom?     Tell  me  about  it" 

"Well,  you  see,  one  day,  a  few  weeks  ago,  I 
came  up  here  fishing,  and  I  got  lost.  I  never  can 
tell  where  I  am  when  I  come  up  here  in  these 
mountains.  So  I  went  up  to  the  top  of  a  hill  where 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        233 

I  saw  a  house.  I  thought  maybe  if  I  got  up  high 
I  might  be  able  to  see  where  I  was.  When  I  got 
up  there,  there  was  the  girl  you  speak  of.  I  liked 
her  fine,  too,  Bill.  She  showed  me  around,  and 
told  me  everything  about  the  place.  I  had  lunch 
there.  She  was  so  nice  that  I  thought  I  would 
give  her  what  fish  I  had;  I  didn't  want  them,  any 
how.  8he  said  she'd  be  glad  to  have  them.  Be 
fore  I  went  she  showed  me  the  winery,  and  told 
me  how  they  make  the  wine,  and  when  I  was  goin' 
she  asked  me  to  come  again.  Well,  I'm  comin'  up 
here  for  a  month  next  summer,  just  to  hear  that 
girl  spiel." 

"So  that  was  you  that  brought  the  fish  that  day, 
was  it?"  Bill  remarked,  doubtfully.  "And,  Tom, 
there's  one  thing  more  I  want  to  ask  you." 

"Ask  away,"  was  the  apparently  unconcerned 
reply. 

"Did  you  say  anything  to  Jessie  about  being  a 
banker's  son?" 

"I  think  I  did." 

"Well,  is  that  true?     Are  you?" 

"I  think  I  am." 

"Tom,  was  your  father  a  banker?  You  never 
told  me  if  he  was." 

"Well,  I  don't  tell  you  everything  I  know." 

"But,  Tom,  why  didn't  you  tell  me?" 

"How  could  I  tell  you  when  I  didn't  know;  I 
only  just  found  it  out  myself.  I've  told  everybody 
that  I've  seen;  if  you'd  been  round,  I'd  have  told 
you.  Besides,  it  ain't  my  uncle's  bank  at  all;  it's 


234  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

MY  bank.  He's  only  looking  after  it  till  I'm  old 
enough  to  do  it." 

"How  did  you  find  this  out?" 

"I  went  up  to  the  city  to  visit  my  uncle  this 
vacation,  and  one  day  I  heard  him  talking  about  it 
when  he  didn't  know  I  was  there.  I  don't  see 
why  he  never  told  me  about  it?" 

"Probably  he  thought  you  were  too  young, 
Tom." 

"Besides  the  bank,  I've  got  a  lot  of  houses  and 
business  blocks,  Bill,"  he  whispered.  "I  heard  my 
uncle  say  that  when  I'm  twenty-one  I'll  have  a 
million.  Think  of  it,  Bill."  Tom's  face  was  beam 
ing  with  the  thoughts  of  it  all. 

"Good,  Tom!"  Bill  gladly  replied.  "Now  you 
can  give  me  a  job.  Will  you?" 

"All  right,  old  man;  when  I  get  it,  you  shall 
have  your  job." 

"And,  say,  Tom;  there's  one  thing  more  I  want 
to  ask  you:  Did  you  drink  a  glass  of  wine  at  the 
winery  that  day?" 

"I — I  don't  remember."    Tom  looked  at  his  feet. 

"Tom!"    This  was  very  decided. 

"I  think  I  did,"  he  acknowledged,  raising  his 
eyes. 

"You  should  have  refused.  You  oughtn't  to 
drink  it,  Tom!" 

"Well,  I  did  refuse,"  he  acknowledged  indig 
nantly,  "and  then  she  said,  'Well,  if  you  don't 
mind,  I'll  just  take  a  drop  for  myself.'  Then  I 
said,  'Well,  I  guess  I'll  take  a  little,  too!'  "  Tom, 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        235 

evidently,  was  not  going  to  be  outdone  by  a  girl. 

"If  I  were  you  I  wouldn't  touch  it,  Tom." 

"I'm  not  going  to  again.  Besides,  she  said  it 
wasn't  so  bad  unless  it  came  out  of  a  bottle,"  he 
said,  smilingly. 

"I  know,  Tom;  that's  what  she  thinks;  but,  for 
my  part,  I  can't  see  what  the  bottle's  got  to  do 
with  it." 

"Nor  I,  Bill.  There's  not  much  in  a  bottle;  not 
when  it's  empty,  eh,  Bill?"  Both  laughed  at 
Tom's  attempt  at  being  funny. 

"Besides,  Bill,  I  believe  she  gave  me  too  much," 
Tom  continued,  after  their  laugh  was  over.  "That 
day,  coming  down  the  hill,  I  couldn't  tell  where  I 
was  going.  When  I  tried  to  go  one  way,  I'd  find 
myself  going  some  other  way.  I  had  to  sit  down 
and  rest  for  a  while,  for  fear  I'd  go  over  the 
cliff." 

"Don't  you  touch  any  more  of  it,  if  it  affects 
you  like  that!"  Bill  ordered,  severely.  "Remem 
ber,  Tom!" 

"I'm  not  going  to.  I've  made  up  my  mind  to 
that." 

"Now,  Tom,"  Bill  asked,  anxiously.  "Tell  me. 
Whatever  brought  you  up  here  again  today?" 

"Well,"  Tom  began,  "that  day  I  was  up  here 
before  I  came  to  fish,  and  I  also  brought  my  gun — 
I  thought  I  might  want  it.  I  brought  a  blanket  as 
well,  thinking  I  might  possibly  stay  all  night  some 
where.  I'd  always  had  an  idea  that  I'd  like  to 
stay  in  the  mountains  all  night  once — to  see  what 


236  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

it  was  like  after  dark ;  and  also  so  I  could  be  here 
early  in  the  morning,  to  fish,  before  some  one  else 
had  them  all  caught  up.  Aunt  Amy  said  I  wouldn't 
like  it  when  it  got  dark;  but  I  came,  anyway. 
Well,  you  see,  as  I  told  you  before,  I  got  lost,  and. 
after  going  up  on  the  hill,  the  girl  told  me  which 
road  to  take;  but  after  I  came  down  I  wandered 
around  till  I  got  lost  again. 

"When  it  was  nearly  night  I  came  to  a  place 
where  there  were  some  little  cottages  built  among 
the  trees,  and,  as  I  saw  no  one  around,  I  concluded 
that  I  might  just  as  well  stay  there  as  not.  So  I 
went  through  all  of  them  to  see  which  suited  me 
the  best;  finally,  I  decided  on  the  second,  as  the 
door  both  front  and  back  could  be  locked. 

"The  first  thing  that  I  did  was  to  take  particu 
lar  pains  to  see  that  both  doors  were  well  locked. 
Now,  notice  what  I  say,  Bill?  I  locked  both  doors. 
Then  I  sat  down  in  the  chair  for  a  while,  and  ate 
some  things  I'd  brought  along  in  my  basket.  Now, 
Bill,  I  wasn't  a  bit  scared,  but  when  it  grew  dark 
I  got  kind  o'  lonely,  and  wished  I  hadn't  come. 
Aunt  Amy  was  right;  I  didn't  like  it.  But  I  was 
there,  and  couldn't  get  away;  so  I  concluded  the 
best  thing  would  be  to  go  to  sleep.  But  I  said  to 
myself,  'Never  again!' 

"Then  I  selected  one  of  the  bunks — they  were 
horrible  things,  though,  and  I  began  to  think  of 
1  bed-bugs. '  But  I  couldn't  help  it,  though.  So, 
wrapping  myself  up  in  the  blanket,  I  lay  down 
and  tried  to  sleep.  I  had  the  hardest  time,  though ; 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        237 

I  couldn't  get  fixed,  and  then  I  had  nothing  for  a 
pillow  but  my  fish-basket.  I  had  a  horrible  time; 
I  got  to  thinkin'  of  you  and  wonderin'  -whatever 
became  of  you.  I  wished  you'd  been  there;  then  I 
wouldn't  have  minded  a  bit.  It  was  horribly 
quiet;  then  once  a  tree  fell  down  and  nearly 
smashed  my  cottage." 

"No,  Tom,"  Bill  interrupted,  "that  was  only  a 
branch  that  fell,  and  it  struck  one  of  the  other 
cabins.  Go  on  with  your  story." 

"Where  was  I,  anyway?" 

"You  were  trying  to  go  to  sleep." 

"Oh,  yes.  I  was  trying  to  go  to  sleep,  and  the 
harder  I  tried  to  go  to  sleep  the  more  I  woke  up. 
Once  I  thought  I  heard  a  noise;  I  sat  up  and  lis 
tened.  Now,  Bill,  I'll  tell  you  what  happened.  I 
never  exactly  believed  in  ghosts;  but  now  I  do. 
Just  as  I  sat  up  the  door  unlatched,  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  I  had  it  locked,  and  slowly  opened  itself. 
Now,  Bill,  I  think  I  could  have  stood  that;  but 
when  it  slowly  closed  and  latched  itself  again,  with 
a  sharp  click,  it  was  too  much  for  me.  I  didn't 
mean  to,  but  I  just  naturally  went — out  of  the  back 
door  and  up  the  hillside  as  tight  as  I  could  go. 
I'd  have  been  goin'  yet,  if  I  hadn't  tripped  over  a 
stump  and  skinned  my  shins." 

"So  that  was  you,  then,  that  went  up  that  hill 
so  lively,"  Bill  again  interrupted.  "I  might  have 
know  no  one  could  run  that  fast  but  you." 

* '  What  do  you  know  about  it,  I  'd  like  to  know  ? ' ' 
Tom  asked,  with  an  astonished  look  on  his  face. 


238  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

"I  was  there,  Tom,  and  heard  you.  It  was  Joe, 
a  friend  of  mine,  who  opened  that  door  and  then 
shut  it  again.  He  was  looking  for  some  one." 

1  'Was  it?  Why  didn't  you  say  so.  I  thought 
sure  it  was  a  ghost.  Aunt  Amy  tried  to  make  me 
think  it  was  the  wind;  but  I  knew  no  wind  could 
ever  do  that  stunt." 

"It's  too  bad,  Tom,  we  didn't  know  it  was  you; 
it  would  have  saved  us  a  lot  of  trouble.  We've 
been  wondering  all  along  who  it  could  have  been." 

"But  how  could  Joe — as  you  call  him — open  the 
door  when  I  had  it  locked?" 

"Perhaps  the  lock  didn't  hold.  Those  doors  are 
old  and  worn  out." 

"Maybe  you're  right.  Now,  today  I've  come  up 
to  get  my  things  before  school  opens.  I  found  the 
cabin  all  right;  but  my  things  are  gone.  Some 
body  has  run  off  with  them.  While  I  was  waitin' 
till  time  to  catch  my  train,  I  thought  I'd  run  down 
to  the  creek  and  see  how  the  fish  are  doing,  and 
here  I  find  you.  Are  you  coming  back  to  school 
tomorrow?" 

"Yes,  Tom,  I  may  as  well,"  Bill  smiled,  bright 
ly. 

"Now  that  I've  got  so  much  money  I  think  I'll 
get  my  uncle  to  let  you  have  enough  to  finish 
school." 

"No,  Tom;  I  have  plenty.  I've  been  working  at 
the  mill  all  summer.  Besides  I  prefer  to  make  my 
own  way  entirely." 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFOENIA  REDWOODS        239 

"Working!  Have  you?"  Tom  exclaimed,  eager 
ly.  "So  have  I  been  working!" 

"What!"  Bill  was  dumfounded.  "You  been 
working ! ' ' 

"I've  been  working,"  Tom  repeated,  as  if  to 
verify  his  former  statement. 

"What  have  you  been  doing?" 

"What  have  I  been  doing!  I've  been  cutting 
the  lawn;  I've  been  making  the  fire;  I've  been 
bringing  in  the  wood.  I've  been  doing  everything, 
just  as  you  said,  Bill — cleaning  up  the  yard,  sweep 
ing  the  walk,  feeding  the  hens,  and  getting  the 
eggs.  I  asked  Aunt  Amy  if  I  might,  and  she  said 
I  could.  I  like  to  get  the  eggs;  I  just  get  curious 
to  know  how  many  there  will  be ;  sometimes  I  have 
to  go  ahead  of  time  to  see  how  many  I'm  going 
to  get." 

"That's  fine,  Tom!  I'm  .glad  to  hear  you've 
been  working."  However,  Bill  was  never  so  sur 
prised  in  his  life. 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  continued;  "I  helped  Aunt  Amy 
with  the  weeding  one  day;  I  only  cut  one  plant, 
and  she  said  that  didn't  matter — she  often  did 
that  herself." 

"Good  for  you,  Tom." 

"Aunt  Amy  says,"  Tom  continued,  proudly, 
"Bill,  I  leave  it  to  Aunt  Amy — she  says  that  I'm 
just  doing  FINE!" 

"I'm  awful  glad  to  hear  it,  Tom,"  Bill  approved. 
"You  certainly  are  doing  FINE!" 

"I  find  work's  not  so  bad  as  I  imagined,  after 


240  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

you  once  get  your  hand  in.  Bank  or  no  bank, 
Bill,  I'm  going  to  learn  to  work  while  I'm  young. 
Then  I  am  'going  to  study  more  this  year  too.  I 
have  a  lot  to  learn  if  I'm  going  to  run  my  bank 
when  I  get  older;  and  I  mean  to  do  it — my  mind 
is  made  up.  I  heard  my  uncle  say  I  never  would 
do  it;  but  I'm  going  to  show  HIM  if  I'll  ever  run 
my  own  bank  .  When  I  make  up  my  mind  to  do  a 
thing  I  usually  do  it ! "  Tom  was  very  much  en 
thused  over  his  new  turn  of  mind. 

"Yes,  Tom;  you  can  do  it  as  well  as  .anybody 
when  you  get  a  little  older.  But  come  now,  if  we 
are  going  to  catch  the  afternoon  train,  we  shall 
have  to  start.  I  must  go  to  the  mill,  and  see  Mr. 
Bradley,  and  then  to  the  vineyard  and  get  my 
things." 

So  they  turned  to  follow  the  same  path  back  to 
the  mill  that  Bill  had  come  down  earlier  in  the 
day.  They  had  only  taken  a  few  steps  when  Bill, 
who  was  leading,  stopped,  and,  turning  to  Tom, 
said,  almost  in  a  whisper:  "Tom,  don't  you  say 
anything  to  the  other  fellows  about  my  horrible 
mistake,  will  you?" 

"All  right,  Bill,  old  man,  mum's  the  word.  And 
— say,  Bill,  don't  you  say  nothing,  either!" 

"What  about,  Tom?  Oh,  you  mean  about  the 
bank?" 

"No,  not  that.  I'll  tell  that.  I  mean  how  I  ran 
up  the  hillside  that  night.  I  didn't  mean  to  do 
it." 

And  so  it  was   agreed  that  neither  boy  would 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFOKNIA  REDWOODS        241 

tell  on  the  other,  .after  which  the  two  continued 
their  way  through  the  bushes  and  scrambling  over 
the  rocks  along  the  creek. 

"I  wonder  what  Aunt  Amy  will  say,"  Tom 
called,  "when  she  hears  my  things  are  gone.  I 
went  off  in  such  a  hurry  that  night  that  I  didn't 
stop  to  get  my  things.  Now,  they're  gone.'* 

"No,  Tom.  Your  things  are  at  the  mill.  Mr. 
Bradley  has  them.  He  took  them  to  care  for  them 
until  we  found  out  who  the  owner  was." 

"Good!    I'm  glad  of  that." 

"And,  say,  Tom,  there's  one  thing  more  I  want 
to  ask  you,"  Bill  said,  softly,  as  they  neared  the 
silent  mill. 

"Ask  away,"  was  the  unconcerned  reply. 

"Did  you  ever  say  anything  about  being  an 
Anarchist  to  any  one  the  night  you  were  in  the 
cabin?" 

"I  did." 

"Well,  what  did  you  say?" 

"I'll  tell  you.  I  didn't  think  of  it  before.  When 
I  went  into  the  cabin  that  night,  just  after  I  had 
finished  latching  the  doors,  I  heard  something 
crackling  around  outside.  I  looked  out  of  the 
window  to  see  what  it  was,  and  there  stood  a 
horrible-looking  critter.  I  pulled  my  head  back 
quick  before  he  could  see  me;  but  he  must  have 
seen  me,  for  he  called  to  know  who  I  was,  what  I 
was  doing  there,  where  I  had  come  from,  and 
where  I  was  going  to.  I  just  hollered  back  and 
told  him  it  was  none  of  his  business.  I  didn't  like 


242  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

having  such  a  critter  around,  if  I  was  to  stay  there 
all  night;  so  I  thought  I'd  better  get  rid  of  him 
while  I  had  the  chance.  I  poked  my  gun  out  of 
the  window  and  called  to  him  to  get  away  or  I'd 
shoot  his  brains  out.  Then,  Bill,  I  said  I  was  an 
Anarchist,  and  that  there  was  a  lot  more  coming 
later,  and  as  many  other  things  as  I  could  think 
of  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  to  make  myself 
as  desperate  as  possible.  When  I  looked  out  of 
the  window  again  he  was  chasing  down  the  path 
I  had  come  up  on  as  fast  as  he  could  go.  I  was 
thankful  to  iget  rid  of  him  so  easy." 

"Tom,  that  was  Joe,"  Bill  spoke,  smilingly. 
"You  had  the  life  nearly  frightened  out  of  him." 

"Was  it?  Was  that  Joe?  Well,  I  wish  now  I 
had  taken  a  shot  at  him,  any  way.  It  would  have 
saved  me  lots  of  trouble  later." 

"Tom,  you  certainly  have  kept  things  stirred  up 
this  summer."  Bill  was  so  amused  that  he  could 
control  himself  no  longer.  He  burst  out  laughing. 
Tom  joined  him.  When  he  could  control  himself 
again  he  looked  at  Bill,  and  with  a  broad  grin 
said:  "What  do  you  know  about  that!" 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        243 


XVII. 

HOMEWARD   BOUND. 

The  first  thing  the  boys  did  upon  reaching  the 
mill  was  to  look  for  Mr.  Bradley.  They  soon  found 
him  sitting  on  his  doorstep,  smoking,  and  enjoying 
the  beauties  of  the  silent,  peaceful  Sunday  fore 
noon.  Bill  quickly  informed  Mr.  Bradley  that  he 
would  like  to  stop  work,  in  order  that  he  might 
return  to  school  on  the  following  day.  Mr.  Brad 
ley  was  sorry  to  hear  Bill  intended  leaving,  for 
he  liked  the  youth  much  better  than  the  ordinary 
millhand,  and  had  found  him  to  be  a  splendid 
worker.  However,  he  arose  from  the  doorstep,  and 
retired  within  his  cabin,  returning  a  few  minutes 
later  with  a  check  which  he  presented  to  Bill,  who 
gladly  placed  it  within  his  vest  pocket,  after 
thanking  Mr.  Bradley;  then  he  told  the  foreman 
that  the  gun  belonged  to  Tom,  and  asked  if  he 
could  have  it.  Mr.  Bradley  looked  at  Tom  very 
closely  for  a  few  moments,  and  before  getting  the 
gun  Tom  had  to  tell  Mr.  Bradley  "what  he  knew 
about  that,"  after  which  the  foreman  threw  back 
his  head  and  literally  roared,  until  his  gruff  voice 
was  thrown  back  to  him  from  the  mountain-side. 
It  was  the  first  time  that  Bill  had  ever  seen  the 


244  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

morose  character  even  crack  a  smile.  After  he 
he  had  done  laughing  he  again  retired  to  the  cabin, 
and  soon  returned  with  the  much-wondered-at  gun, 
as  well  as  the  fish-basket. 

''Where  is  my  blanket,  Bill?"  Tom  asked,  after 
the  other  articles  were  safely  in  his  possession. 

"Tom!"  Bill  fairly  gasped.  "So  that  was  your 
blanket.  I  might  have  known  it — no  wonder  I 
felt  sick  that  night  in  the  cabin;  it  WAS  the  same 
blanket,"  he  thought  to  himself.  "Tom,  some 
tramps  got  in  that  cabin  the  next  night,  and  one 
of  them  carried  your  blanket  away  the  next  morn 
ing.  Jessie  saw  him  going  down  the  road  with  it 
strapped  over  his  shoulder.  You'll  have  to  let  it 
go!" 

"Tramps!"  Tom  repeated.  "If  I'd  known  that 
tramps  lived  there,  you  bet  I'd  never  have  gone 
into  those  cabins.  Never  again,  Bill,  do  I  stay 
here  overnight." 

"Come,  Tom;  we  must  hurry.  I  have  to  go  and 
get  my  things,  you  know." 

After  bidding  Mr.  Bradley  good-bye,  the  boys 
hurried  away  from  the  mill  in  the  direction  of  the 
vineyard. 

"Did  you  have  a  pole,  Tom?"  Bill  asked,  not 
yet  having  seen  anything  of  the  fishing-pole. 

"Yes,  Bill;  but  I  lost  it  somewhere  that  day, 
before  I  went  to  the  cabins.  I  put  it  down  some 
place,  and  I've  never  been  able  to  find  it  since. 
I  don't  care,  though,  as  long  as  I've  found  my 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        245 

gun.  Have  you  got  money  enough  to  commence 
school  with?" 

"Yes,  Tom.  Then,  if  I  get  a  job  somewhere  to 
work  out  of  school  hours,  111  get  along  nicely." 

"Yes,  Bill;  you'll  be  going  back  to  the  store 
again  as  soon  as  school  opens." 

"I'm  afraid  not,"  was  the  solemn  reply. 

"Yes,  Bill." 

"No,  Tom.  I  left  there  without  saying  any 
thing.  They  wouldn't  have  me  back.  I'm  sorry, 
too;  I  liked  it  real  well." 

"Yes,  Bill.  You'll  have  your  place  back.  I've 
arranged  for  all  that." 

"You  have,  Tom?"  he  asked,  incredulously. 
"How?" 

"I'll  tell  you  all  about  it,  Bill,  just  as  I  remem 
ber  it:  The  next  morning  after  you  left  I  was 
late  waking  up;  I  didn't  feel  so  very  good.  I  re 
member  now — my  head  was  sore.  I  wondered  why 
I  went  to  bed  with  all  my  clothes  on.  I  couldn't 
remember  about  the  fight  then — I  couldn't  remem 
ber  what  we  did.  You  were  gone.  First  I  thought 
you  had  gone  off  to  the  store;  then  I  discovered 
your  clothes  were  all  gone.  First  I  thought  you 
had  gone  off  mad,  because  I  wasn't  working.  You 
know  what  you  said?" 

"Yes,"   Bill   acknowledged. 

"Then,  Bill,  I  thought  maybe  you  had  gone 
off  somewhere  to  work  for  the  vacation — you  said 
you  might,  where  you  could  get  more  pay — and 
had  left  on  the  early  train — the  one  that  wakes  me 


246  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

up  every  morning  when  it  goes  past  the  house. 
Still,  I  wondered  why  you  didn't  leave  a  note,  or 
write  afterwards.  I  puzzled  over  it  until  my  head 
ached,  and  I  couldn't  come  to  any  conclusion  that 
suited  me.  It  was  the  same  thing  all  vacation, 
Bill,  wherever  I  went,  or  whatever  I  did;  whether 
I  was  working,  or  fishing,  or  hanging  around  the 
Casino,  it  would  be  the  same  thing — I'd  get  to 
thinkin':  'Poor  Bill!  poor  Bill!  what  ever  became 
of  him,  anyway!'  After  I  was  up  a  little  while  I 
began  to  want  my  breakfast,  and,  as  there  was  no 
one  else  to  get  it,  I  had  to  cook  it  myself." 

"Did  you,  Tom?"  Bill  interrupted,  curiously. 
"What  did  you  have?" 

"Eggs!"  Tom  answered,  smiling.  "I  had  the 
two  broken  eggs.  I  thought  I  better  get  them 
out  of  the  way  before  Aunt  Amy  came  home.  I 
did  everything  just  as  you  did,  Bill.  Lucky  I 
watched  you  cook  them  the  night  before,  wasn't 
it?" 

"Did  you  have  the  bacon,  too,  Tom?" 

"  No ;  I  was  afraid  if  I  tried  any  new  wrinkles 
I  might  set  the  house  on  fire." 

"You  could  have  cooked  it  just  the  same  as  the 
eggs." 

"Never  mind;  I  had  enough.  I  ate  the  potatoes; 
I  ate  them  cold.  I  wasn't  every  hungry,  any  way, 
wonderin'  about  things.  I  did  miss  my  cup  of 
coffee,  though.  I'd  just  finished  eatin',  when  I 
heard  some  one  hammering  on  the  front  door.  I 
went  out  to  see  who  it  was.  It  was  a  man  from 


STOKY  OF  THE  CALIFOKNIA  REDWOODS        247 

the  store ;  he  wanted  to  know  where  you  were.  For 
a  minute  I  couldn't  think  what  to  say.  Then  I 
told  him — I  had  to  say  something — that  you'd 
gone  off  to  work  for  the  vacation  where  you  could 
get  more  pay.  I  told  him  that  you'd  gone  off  in 
such  a  hurry  that  you  didn't  have  time  to  go 
around  and  tell  them.  Then  I  said  that  I  was  to 
have  gone  around  and  told  them,  but  that  I  over 
slept  that  morning,  and  hadn't  got  round  yet.  I 
knew,  Bill,  you  must  have  had  some  good  reason 
for  going;  it  wouldn't  be  like  you  to  go  off  like 
that  unless  you  had.  So  I  just  thought  I'd  make 
up  something.  I  knew,  Bill,  wherever  you  were, 
you'd  be  working;  I  was  right,  too,  wasn't  I?" 
Tom  looked  pleased  to  think  he  had  hit  the  nail 
on  the  head.  "Then  I  told  him  you'd  be  back 
when  school  opened  again;  I  knew  you'd  come 
back  because  you  left  your  books.  I  was  right, 
too,  wasn't  I?  You  are  coming  back,  ain't  you, 
Bill?"  Tom  was  highly  delighted  to  think  how 
dextrously  he  had  managed  everything. 

"Last  night  I  was  so  sure  that  you'd  come  home 
that  I  went  down  to  the  evening  train  to  meet 
you.  That's  why  I  waited  until  today  to  come  up 
here;  so  you  could  come  with  me. 

"Then,  Bill,  after  I  told  the  man  from  the  store 
what  I  say,  he  looked  at  the  ground;  then  he 
looked  up  and  said  he  guessed  it  would  be  all 
right.  He  said  he  knew  you  too  well  not  to  know 
that  you  wouldn't  go  off  in  such  a  hurry,  unless 
you  had  some  good  reason.  He  said  he  intended 


248  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

paying  you  more  for  the  vacation;  but  it  was  all 
right;  he'd  get  somebody  else  until  you  came 
back;  that  he  wanted  you  again,  because  you  were 
the  best  he  ever  had  to  do  things  up  about  the 
store.  So,  you  see,  Bill,  you  can  ,go  back  to  the 
store  again." 

"All  right,  Tom!"  Bill  gladly  exclaimed.  "I'm 
awful  glad  of  that.  You've  managed  everything 
just  fine!" 

"After  that  I  went  out  into  the  yard,  and,  not 
knowing  what  else  to  do,  I  climbed  up  in  the 
apple  tree,  where  wre  go  when  we  want  to  talk. 
There  I  got  thinkin'  and  thinkin',  first  about  you 
and  where  you  had  gone.  Then  I  .got  to  thinkin' 
about  you  and  what  you  said — that  I  was  lazy 
and  worthless  and  ought  to  learn  to  work.  Then, 
Bill,  right  then  and  there  in  the  apple  tree,  I 
made  up  my  mind  that  I'd  do  it.  So  I  came 
down,  out  of  the  tree,  and  went  right  to  work. 
First,  I  fed  the  hens.  I  hadn't  thought  of  them 
until  then,  and  they  were  hungry.  After  that  I 
cut  the  lawn,  brought  in  the  wood,  and  everything 
else — just  as  you  said,  Bill. 

"After  I  had  done  everything  just  as  I'd  seen 
you  do,  I  was  hungry.  I  went  inside  wonderin' 
what  I'd  have  for  lunch — if  it  would  be  'eggs'. 
Just  then  the  door  opened,  and  who  should  walk 
serenely  in  but  Aunt  Amy!  It  seems  my  uncle 
wasn't  hurt  as  badly  as  they  thought;  so  she  came 
home.  She  wanted  to  know  who'd  been  fixing 
things  so  nice.  I  said  that  I  had,  and  she  looked 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        249 

pleased.  When  you  didn't  come  home  to  lunch 
she  asked  where  you  were ;  so  I  told  her  the 
same  thing  that  I  did  the  store-man.  I  thought  I 
better  tell  everybody  the  same  thing,  and  I  was 
right,  too,  wasn't  I,  Bill?"  Again  Tom  smiled 
pleasingly. 

By  this  time  the  boys  had  reached  the  vineyard. 
An  hour  later  they  were  ready  to  leave,  Bill 
having  .gathered  together  his  belongings  and  packed 
them  in  his  traveling-case,  as  well  as  bidding 
good-bye  to  his  friends.  Thus  the  boys  retraced 
their  foot-steps  down  the  hill. 

"How  are  you  going  to  get  out  of  this  place, 
anyway?"  Tom  was  lost  again. 

"Follow  me,  Tom?     I  know  the  way." 

As  they  continued  toward  the  station,  along 
the  winding  road,  sometimes  rising,  more  often 
gently  falling,  at  times  the  warm  sunshine  would 
beat  strongly  upon  their  backs;  again  they  would 
pass  through  the  cool,  welcome  shade  of  the 
mighty  redwoods  or  other  forest  monarchs.  On 
either  hand,  bordering  the  silent,  country  road 
were  the  dust-covered  leaves  of  woodland  plants, 
shrubs,  trailing  vines,  grasses  and  tangled  briars, 
amassed  together,  each  struggling  for  supremacy ; 
and  like  the  great  sea  of  humanity  the  strongest 
ever  became  the  victors,  unmindful  of  the  weak. 
Beyond  were  the  deep  canyons,  the  sunny  mead 
ows,  the  checkered  vineyards,  or  the  thick  forests. 
In  the  shadiest  places  beside  some  babbling  brook 
bordered  with  mosses  and  grasses,  kissed  only 


250  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

occasionally  by  a  stray  sunbeam,  they  would  pass 
beds  of  pink  oxalis,  white  forget-me-nots  or  bright 
yellow  buttercups.  And  often  while  trudging 
along,  their  incessant  chattering  or  fresh,  boyish 
laughter  would  startle  some  squirrel  or  cottontail 
to  scamper  into  the  deeper  woods  for  safety. 

''The  next  day  after  you  left,"  Tom  eagerly 
continued,  "I  did  everything  different  from  what 
I  planned.  What  is  the  use  of  plans?  First,  we 
went  to  church ;  then  when  we  got  home,  who 
should  be  waiting  at  the  gate  but  Uncle  John  in 
his  car?  He  took  lunch  with  us;  afterwards  he 
took  us  for  a  ride.  We  went  up  to  the  Big  Trees. 
My !  but  it  was  fine !  You  should  have  been  there 
and  seen  me  climbing  the  trees!" 

"No,  Tom!    You  never  could  climb  those  trees!" 

"What!     Not  the  Cathedral,  Bill!" 

"Oh,  of  course  you  could  climb  around  those 
trees — I  did  that  myself." 

"When  was  you  there?" 

"Only  the  day  before  you.  I  stopped  over 
there  on  my  way  here."  Bill  thought  back  to 
the  day  he  had  visited  the  trees;  it  had  been  the 
hardest  day  of  his  life.  How  different  it  was  now! 

"The  next  day,  Bill,  when  Uncle  John  returned 
to  the  city,  who  should  go  along  but  myself!  I 
tell  you  it  was  fine  riding  along  over  the  moun 
tains  with  the  trees  and  things  looking  at  you! 
I  was  gone  two  weeks.  It  was  while  I  was  away 
that  I  found  out  about  myself  owning  the  bank. 
It's  fine  up  here,  isn't  it?"  he  concluded,  looking 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS       251 

around  at  the  giant  trees  and  the  other  wonders 
of  the  wooded  mountains.  ''Do  you  have  any 
trees  like  this  back  where  you  come  from,  Bill?" 

"No,  Tom.  We  have  lots  of  nice  things,  but 
not  trees  like  these." 

"This  is  the  place  for  me,  Bill." 

"Yes.    I  like  it  here,  too." 

"Here  I  intend  to  stay  always." 

"But  you  will  have  to  go  away  when  you  begin 
to  run  your  bank,"  Bill  answered,  pausing  to  see 
what  Tom's  reply  to  that  would  be. 

"Not  far,  Bill.  I  will  have  a  car  like  Uncle 
John,  and  I  will  come  here  when  I  like.  I'm  not 
goin'  to  work  all  the  time,"  he  uttered  emphatic 
ally.  "I  shall  live  half  here  and  half  in  the  city." 

"How  can  you  do  that — cut  yourself  in  two?" 
Bill  spoke  smilingly. 

"Bill,  you  are  the  funniest!  Don't  get  me 
started  again."  A  broad  grin  was  spreading  over 
Tom's  face.  When  he  could  control  himself,  he 
added:  "You  know  well  enough  what  I  mean.  I 
shall  live  half  of  the  TIME  here,  and  half  of  the 
TIME  at  my  bank.  I  believe  in  working  half  and 
playing  half — that's  my  way." 

"You're  right.     That's  my  way,  too." 

"Then  why  are  you  working  all  the  time?" 

"I  can't  help  it  now,  while  I'm  going  to  school; 
but  I'm  not  always  goin'  to.  When  I  get  through 
school  I  hope  to  have  more  spare  time." 

"Won't  it  seem  good  to  get  back  to  school 
again?"  Tom  at  length  said.  "I  mean  to  study 


252  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

real  hard  this  year.  I  will  study  quick  and  then 
I  shall  have  plenty  of  time  for  games  afterwards." 

"That's  the  way,  Tom." 

"And,  Bill,  there's  one  thing  I've  been  thinkin' 
as  we've  been  walking  along:  I  think  we'd  better 
not  play  cards  quite  so  much  this  year;  now  that 
I  see  the  harm  that  comes  from  it." 

"You  may  do  as  you  like,"  Bill  replied  deter 
minedly,  "but  for  my  part  I  shall  never  touch 
another  card.  Tom,  before  my  mother  died,  I 
promised  her  that  I  would  never  touch  a  card.  I 
didn't  keep  my  promise  very  well;  but  I  shall 
now — always. ' ' 

"I  don't  remember  what  I  promised  my  mother, 
Bill;  I  was  too  small.  But  you  seem  to  know 
what's  best;  so  if  you  say  so — I  shall  never  play 
again." 

"I  can  only  speak  for  myself,  Tom.  You  must 
decide  for  yourself.  I  shall  never  touch  another 
card." 

"Nor  I,  Bill." 

"And,  Tom,  there's  one  thing  more  you  need 
to  do;  I  tell  you  for  your  own  good:  you  need  to 
control  your  temper." 

"I  know  it.  I've  been  thinking  of  that,  too,  as 
we're  walking  along.  I  know  what  I'll  dp,  when 
I  feel  myself  getting  mad;  I  shall  say  to  myself: 
'Now,  .see  here,  Thomas,  hadn't  you  better  cut 
that  right  out?'  And  that  will  end  it  all." 

"You  have  the  right  idea,  Tom.  All  you  need 
to  do  is  to  learn  to  control  yourself." 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFOKNIA  KEDWOODS        253 

For  a  few  minutes  they  walked  along  in  silence 
down  the  quiet  mountain  road;  then  Tom  said: 

"Bill,  let's  put  our  things  down  here  and  have 
a  foot-race,  down  to  that  big  tree  and  back.  I 
haven't  had  a  good  run  this  vacation." 

"All  right,  Tom."  Bill  was  ready  for  any 
thing;  he  was  so  glad  to  have  Tom  back  again. 

So  the  two  boys  placed  their  luggage  by  the 
roadside,  after  which  Tom  drew  a  line  across  the 
dusty  road  with  his  boot-toe,  and  both  took  their 
places  in  preparation  for  the  coming  race. 

"Now  ready,  Bill!  One!  Two!  Three!  Go!" 
Both  boys  went  chasing  down  the  road  with  Tom 
in  the  lead,  for  the  simple  reason  that  he  had 
started  on  "Three!"  instead  of  "Go!" 

"Are  you  coming?"  he  called  back  over  his 
shoulder.  But  Bill  made  no  reply;  he  was  too 
busy. 

"Go  around  the  tree!"  Tom  called  a  minute 
later,  as  he  still  led  the  race  toward  the  giant 
redwood. 

He  was  the  first  to  go  around  the  tree,  with 
Bill  closely  following.  But  on  the  home  run,  Bill, 
to  show  what  he  could  do,  gained  on  his  com 
panion,  soon  passed  him,  and  thus  reached  the 
starting  point  first,  with  Tom  only  a  step  behind. 
Breathlessly  the  youths  gathered  up  their  traps 
in  preparation  to  continue  their  way. 

"You  are  better  at  it  than  I,"  Tom,  between 
breaths,  acknowledged. 

Thus  the  two  youths,  with  smiling,  happy  faces 


254  BILL'S  MISTAKE 

continued  along  the  mountain  road,  with  the  aged 
monarchs  breathing  down  upon  them  their  gentle 
blessings.  They  were  happy;  happy  because  they 
were  together  again  and  happy  because  they  were 
going  back  to  Santa  Cruz  and  to  school. 

"Let's  whistle  'something',  Bill." 

"All  right,  Tom." 

Tom  began  to  whistle  "something,"  and  Bill 
accompanied  him;  they  whistled  as  only  two 
happy  boys  can  whistle.  When  they  had  finished 
their  tune,  Tom  turned  toward  Bill  and  with  his 
face  beaming  and  his  dark  brown  eyes  sparkling, 
said: 

"Doesn't  it  seem  good,  Bill,  to  be  together 
again?" 

"Yes,  Tom;  it  DOES  seem  good." 

In  time  they  came  to  a  mountain-top,  and,  look 
ing  down,  there  it  all  lay  below  them — Santa  Cruz, 
"The  City  Beautiful." 


STOEY  OF  THE  CALIFOKNIA   REDWOODS       255 


THE    CITY    BEAUTIFUL. 

Santa  Cruz,  City  of  the  Holy  Cross,  IS  beautiful ; 
perhaps  not  so  much  in  itself  as  in  its  surround 
ings  and  in  its  balmy,  salubrious  climate — its  cool 
summers  and  mild  winters.  It  is  true  that  there 
are  days  of  heat,  days  of  cold,  days  of  wind,  and 
days  of  fog  in  summer  and  rain  in  winter,  and 
even  frost  (never  snow)  ;  but  is  it  not  enough  to 
know  that  there  are  no  piercing  blasts  of  winter, 
no  sweltering  heat  of  summer?  Then  there  are 
the  perfect  days — the  days  when  it  seems  that 
heaven  and  earth  are  one,  when  everything  is 
just  right — the  warm  sunshine  the  cloudless  sky, 
the  green  grass  and  trees,  the  many-colored  blos 
soms,  the  gay  songsters  and  the  buzzing  bees. 
Sometimes  these  days  come  in  June,  sometimes  in 
January. 

And  always  the  beautiful  flowers;  in  the  spring 
time  it  seems  as  if  they  were  everywhere;  at  other 
seasons,  not  so  many,  of  course,  but  there  are 
always  some.  Santa  Cruz  is  famous  for  its  beau 
tiful  roses;  here  in  the  gardens  they  may  be 
gathered  every  day  of  the  year. 

Santa  Cruz  is  world  famous  for  its  beautiful 
scenery.  Some  cities  that  lie  on  the  sea  coast 


256  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

may  boast  of  their  beautiful  harbors,  or  of  the 
cliffs  and  sandy  beaches;  others  may  boast  of  their 
parks,  or  of  their  lakes,  or  their  rivers;  and  still 
others  may  boast  of  their  green,  rolling  hills 
or  of  rugged  mountains  that  surround  them.  But 
Santa  Cruz?  .She  may  boast  of  them  all — the 
high  mountains  sloping  downward,  with  their 
many  ridges,  and  valleys  between  them;  the  deep 
canyons,  always  with  a  stream  of  purest  moun 
tain  water  at  the  very  bottom,  rushing  along 
among  the  rocks;  and  the  growth  of  trees  and 
flowers  —  from  the  giant  redwoods,  the  living 
monarchs  of  the  earth,  down  to  the  tiniest  of 
mountain  floAvers,  all  amassed  together  in  every 
available  space.  The  mountains  gradually  slope 
downward  to  the  foot-hills,  in  shades  of  green  in 
winter  and  of  brown  in  late  summer.  From  the 
foot-hills  there  is  a  gentle,  gradual  slope  to  the 
cliffs,  and  below  them  the  sandy  beaches  that 
border — part  on  the  Pacific  Ocean  and  part  on 
Monterey  Bay. 

Santa  Cruz  is  a  thriving  little  city,  with  its 
homes — beautiful  homes,  modest  homes  and  poorer 
homes ;  its  business  blocks,  its  churches  and 
schools,  and  its  factories,  and,  above  all — not  to 
be  forgotten  — the  famous  Casino  and  Natatorium, 
which  guard  one  of  the  finest  bathing  beaches  on 
the  Pacific  Coast.  Here  is  the  place  where  all 
Californians  love  to  gather  in  the  summer  time  to 
frolic  on  the  sands,  to  sport  in  the  gentle  waves, 
to  drive  alone:  the  cliffs  or  beyond  among  the 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        257 

hills  and  mountains,  to  fish  in  the  bay  or  in  the 
mountain  streams,  to  rest,  to  dream  and  to  enjoy 
" Beautiful"  Santa  Cruz,  where  the  silent,  deep- 
blue  mountains  look  down  on  the  sea  and  the 
ever-restless  sea  calls  back  to  the  mountains. 
Here,  along  the  San  Lorenzo  as  it  gently  falls 
from  the  lofty  ridges,  passing  through  deep  can 
yons,  passing  through  the  beautiful  city,  until  it 
at  last  reaches  the  sea,  you  may  in  one  day 
breathe  the  breath  of  the  redwoods  mingled  with 
that  of  woodland  flowers,  or  inhale  the  fresh,  salt 
sea  air. 

Is  it  any  wonder,  then,  that  with  such  surround 
ings  there  should  be  beautiful  drives?  Here,  in 
deed,  is  a  place  for  a  tourist  with  an  automobile. 

The  first  drive  will  take  the  sightseer  west 
ward,  through  the  city,  and  thence  along  the  cliffs 
overlooking  the  bay,  passing  beautiful  homes 
ideally  situated  where  they  command  the  marine 
view  as  well  as  that  of  the  beach,  city  and  distant 
mountains.  After  passing  Light  House  Point, 
with  its  characteristic  light  house,  at  the  entrance 
of  the  harbor,  he  continues  along  the  cliffs  of  the 
ocean,  often  pink  with  the  little  blossom  of  the 
mesembryanthemum,  and  with  sandy  beaches  or 
jutting  rocks  below.  Thus  as  he  rides,  the  traveler 
may  watch  Father  Neptune  as  he  lashes  his  fiery 
steeds  against  the  rocks,  or  the  huge  combers 
as  they  advance  shoreward  sending  a  thin  veil  of 
white  spray  behind,  then  with  an  innumerable 
retinue  of  whitecaps  in  the  rear.  Or  it  may  be 


258  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

that  the  waves  are  only  gentle  ripples  that  mur 
mur  softly  with  the  summer  breeze  as  they  roll 
upon  the  pebbles  of  the  beaches.  Again  it  may  be 
that  the  silvery  moonbeams  will  sparkle  upon  the 
churning  waters  while  he  rides. 

After  riding  several  miles  along  the  cliffs,  the 
tourist  may,  if  he  wish,  continue  further  up  the 
coast  by  turning  a  short  space  inland.  Then  he 
proceeds  with  the  rolling  hills  at  his  right  and 
the  gentle,  green  slope  on  the  left,  with  the  ocean 
not  far  in  the  distance.  This  drive  continues,  pass 
ing  grain  fields,  dairies  of  Holsteins  peacefully 
grazing  on  the  many  hills,  and  over  little  streams 
that  creep  along,  laughing,  sparkling,  until  at 
length  they  mingle  their  waters  with  that  of  the 
mighty  Pacific.  In  due  time  the  traveler  arrives 
at  Davenport,  the  site  of  the  Portland  Cement 
plant.  If  he  wish  he  may  return,  or  continue 
further  passing  through  cool,  woody  places,  up 
steep  hills,  then  down  again,  often  reaching  the 
rocky  coast  and  riding  for  some  distance  along 
the  cliffs  or  by  the  beaches,  listening  to  the  inces 
sant  roar  of  the  tumbling  water. 

After  a  delightful  ride,  in  time  the  sightseer 
will  cross  the  line  into  San  Mateo  County  and 
soon  pass  Pigeon  Point,  with  its  imposing  light 
house,  and  New  Years  Island,  a  short  distance  from 
the  mainland.  As  he  advances,  winding  along 
between  the  great  hills  with  sometimes  fertile 
valleys  lying  between  them  and  through  several 
sea-coast  towns,  he  at  length  comes  to  Pescadero, 


STOKY  OF  THE  CALIFOENIA  REDWOODS        259 

with  its  famous  beach  of  rare  pebbles.  By  going 
further  the  traveler,  after  passing  along  among 
hundreds  of  great  hills,  finally  reaches  the  broad 
artichoke  country  of  Half  Moon  Bay.  Then,  over 
the  hills  inland,  twisting,  turning,  rising,  he 
reaches  the  very  summit  where  he  can  look  down 
on  it  all.  Down  again,  the  opposite  side,  crossing 
the  Spring  Valley  lake,  he  arrives  at  Belmont,  from 
which  place  it  is  only  a  short  ride  to  the  great 
Metropolis  of  the  West — San  Francisco. 

The  second  drive,  perhaps  the  most  famous, 
will  take  the  tourist  through  the  San  Lorenzo  can 
yon,  among  the  giant  redwoods.  He  leaves  the 
main  street  of  the  city,  and  after  passing  through 
the  northern  limits  enters  the  canyon,  famous  for 
its  variety  of  vegetation.  First  he  passes  through 
a  grove  of  sycamore  trees  standing  so  densely  that 
they  almost  meet  overhead,  leaving  space  only 
for  a  narrow  ribbon-like  stretch  of  pale-blue  sky. 

Advancing,  the  sightseer  passes  a  multitude  of 
kingly  forest  trees  mantled  in  emerald  shades, 
from  the  pale  green  of  the  maple  and  alder  to  the 
dark  green  of  the  oak,  and  California  laurel  with 
its  peculiar  spicy  aroma.  The  stately  pine,  the 
feathery  fir,  the  attractive  madrone  with  its  dark 
green,  richly  varnished  leaves  showing  against  the 
reddish  peeling  bark,  which  in  the  springtime  puts 
forth  great  panicles  of  small,  white  waxen  bells 
which  in  autumn  change  to  clusters  of  crimson 
berries,  are  associated  together;  and  are  all  ever 
green,  so  that  judging  by  the  trees  of  this  grand 


260  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

canyon,  it  is  hard  to  determine  between  summer 
and  winter. 

But  most  admirable  and  numerous  of  all  are  the 
tall,  slender  redwoods  that  rise,  gracefully  droop 
ing  their  evergreen  branches  and  emitting  a  de 
licious  fragrance,  to  a  wonderful  height — so  that 
all  other  trees  appear  as  mere  pigmies. 

Beneath  this  kingly  army  are  smaller  attend 
ants  —  trailing  vines,  delicate  ferns,  pleasing 
shrubs,  and  gayest  flowers.  The  wild  currant,  with 
its  clusters  of  fresh,  pink  flowers;  the  wild  lilac, 
both  pale  blue  and  white,  so  compact  that  they 
often  tint  the  distant  hillsides;  and  hazel  bushes, 
often  bearing  nuts — abound,  as  well  as  brakes  and 
sword  ferns,  thimble-berry  bushes,  with  their 
large  white  flowers  with  crumpled  petals  which 
are  deliciously  fragrant ;  and  a  retinue  of  many- 
colored  mountain  flowers  that  love  the  shady  places 
beneath — the  iris,  violets,  buttercups  and  lilies. 

As  the  road  continues,  the  excursionist  has  at 
his  left  the  rising  tree-covered  slopes,  and  at  his 
right  the  deep  canyon;  sometimes  broad,  with  a 
thick  growth  of  tall,  slender  redwoods,  rising  to 
such  a  height  that  it  seems  as  if  they  were  eager 
to  touch  the  sky;  sometimes  narrow,  leaving  only 
room  at  the  bottom  for  the  San  Lorenzo  as  it 
hurries  along,  dancing  and  singing  among  the 
huge  boulders.  Presently,  after  a  delightful  ride 
through  this  natural  park,  along  this  road  of  many 
turns  and  sharp  curves,  through  shady  as  well  as 


STOKY  OF  THE  CALIFOKNIA  EEDWOODS       261 

sunny  places,  the  traveler  reaches  the  branch  road 
that  leads  down  to  the  grove  of  giant  redwoods. 

After  seeing  these  "oldest  and  largest  living 
inhabitants  of  the  earth,"  he  may  return  to  the 
main  road  and  proceed  further  to  see  more  of  the 
wonders  of  the  Santa  Cruz  Mountains.  After  pass 
ing  Felton,  a  small  settlement  in  an  open  valley, 
he  whirls  along  the  winding  road,  passing  moun 
tain  homes  and  woody  places,  until  Ben  Lomond, 
with  its  picturesque  summer  hotels  and  cottages 
bordering  along  the  river,  is  reached.  Brookdale 
is  the  next  resort.  Here  are  hundreds  of  rustic 
cottages,  so  hidden  among  the  trees  and  shrubs 
that  each  cannot  easily  see  their  next-door  neighbor. 

But  the  grandest  part  of  the  ride  will  be  from 
Boulder  Creek,  a  lumber  town,  on  up  onto  the 
higher  mountains,  winding  and  turning,  upgrade, 
until  near  the  summit  the  sightseer  stops  his  car, 
awed  with  the  grandeur  of  the  sublime  scenery 
that  stretches  before  him.  Directly  below  lies  the 
Little  Basin;  beyond  it  the  rising  mountain 
ridges  with  their  higher  peaks,  as  far  as  the  eye 
can  see;  and  all  tree-covered.  It  is  a  beautiful 
view,  with  the  clear,  cerulean  sky  above  and  the 
warm  sunlight  sifted  gently  over  it  all — together 
with  the  deep  shadows.  Indeed,  it  is  a  living 
picture  painted  by  Nature,  with  colors  of  blue 
and  green  flaked  with  silver  and  gold;  a  picture 
painted  by  an  unseen  hand  with  a  brush  of  sun 
beams.  As  the  traveler  continues  his  ride,  he 
passes  through  the  gateway,  hewn  through  the  top 


262  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

of  the  mountain,  and  then  begins  to  descend, 
down,  down  the  ever-turning  road  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  mountain  into  the  Big  Basin.  Down 
at  the  very  bottom,  nurtured  by  the  heavy  rains 
of  winter  and  the  fogs  from  the  nearby  ocean  in 
summer,  stand  the  giant  redwoods,  perhaps  no 
larger  than  those  of  the  San  Lorenzo  canyon  but 
ever  so  many  more  of  them,  standing  almost  as 
thick  as  blades  of  grass,  with  masses  of  rich, 
shiny  huckleberry  foliage  beneath.  Here  is  the 
place  for  the  picnicker  to  eat  his  lunch  and  while 
awray  the  noonday  hours  and  then  return  to  Santa 
Cruz  before  nightfall. 

The  third  drive  takes  the  sightseer,  after  hav 
ing  the  city,  between  the  hills  into  Scott's  valley — 
fertile  with  farming  lands,  orchards,  dairies  and 
happy  homes.  As  he  proceeds  he  enters  the  higher 
mountains,  with  their  wondrous  growth  of  trees 
and  flowers.  The  mighty  redwoods  stand  like  sen 
tinels  along  the  path  as  the  car  goes  gliding 
along  for  many  a  mile,  up  hill  and  down  dale, 
through  the  cool  shadows.  Often  a  small  moun 
tain  brook,  bordered  with  ferns  and  mosses,  or 
companies  of  golden  buttercups  or  modest  baby- 
blue-eyes,  gently  wanders  onward,  or  more  swiftly 
plunges  over  the  rocks  singing  to  the  traveler  as 
he  passes  and  breathes  the  breath  of  the  redwoods 
mingled  with  that  of  sweet  grasses  and  flowers. 

After  little  more  than  an  hour's  ride  the  little 
town  of  Glenwood,  nestled  among  the  mountains, 
is  reached;  here  the  driver  turns  and  takes  a  road 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        263 

that  leads  back  over  one  of  the  mountains.  At  the 
highest  point  he  may  pause  to  drink  in  the  mag 
nificent  view  which  lies  before  him — a  picture  of 
ridges,  and  broad  valleys  or  deep  canyons  that 
lie  between  them.  In  the  distance  upon  the  high 
est  range  lies  the  crown  of  all — the  blue  dome- 
shaped  mountain,  Loma  Prieta.  To  the  southward 
a  glimpse  of  the  blue  water  of  the  bay  is  visible 
on  a  clear  day.  In  returning  to  the  city  the  tour 
ist  may  come  through  Blackburn  Gulch,  thus  re 
ceiving  a  variety  of  mountain  grandeur. 

The  fourth  drive  is  from  Santa  Cruz  along  the 
main  county  road  to  the  picturesque  village  of 
Soquel,  four  miles  distant;  thence  turning  into 
the  mountains  and  continuing  through  the  canyon 
of  the  Soquel.  This  in  many  ways  resembles  that 
of  the  San  Lorenzo  ride,  only  it  is  broader  and 
contains  more  in  the  way  of  farms  and  orchards. 
The  traveler  may  go  as  far  as  he  likes  over  this 
road,  even  over  the  mountains  into  the  Santa  Clara 
valley,  to  San  Jose  and  San  Francisco.  Returning, 
however,  he  may  take  the  scenic  road  over  Moun 
tain  View,  a  lofty  ride,  rich  in  scenery,  vineyards, 
as  well  as  other  vegetation,  and  health  resorts; 
descending  again  into  Doyle  Gulch,  he  at  length 
reaches  the  county  road  again. 

The  fifth  drive  is  through  the  city  to  the  east 
and  along  the  cliffs  that  overlook  Monterey  Bay, 
passing  Seabright  and  Twin  Lakes,  two  suburban 
seaside  resorts.  As  he  continues  the  sightseer  has 
at  his  right  the  crescent-shaped  bay,  with  the  ever- 


264  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

restless,  spumy  waves  rolling  upon  the  sandy 
beaches;  and  far  across  the  water  he  will  see  the 
blue  mountains  of  Monterey.  At  his  left  he  will 
see  neat  homes,  surrounded  by  flowers  and  trees, 
and,  if  it  be  in  the  springtime,  the  empty  fields 
will  be  carpeted  with  wild  flowers,  the  golden 
California  poppy,  or  copa  de  oro,  and  the  blue 
lupine  predominating.  In  the  distance  are  the 
Santa  Cruz  Mountains,  with  Loma  Prieta,  who 
from  her  lofty  position  like  a  queen  smiles  down 
from  her  throne  on  her  favorite  county. 

After  reaching  Capitola,  another  seaside  resort, 
the  driver  turns  inland  for  a  mile  until  he  reaches 
Soquel.  Here  he  enters  the  main  county  road  and, 
continuing  eastward,  soon  passes  Aptos,  where  the 
redwoods  come  down  to  the  sea;  then  whirls  along 
among  the  hills,  leaving  behind  orchards,  grain- 
fields,  dairies  and  farm-homes,  until  at  length 
Watsonville — the  sister  city — which  lies  in  the 
center  of  the  broad  and  fertile  Pajaro  valley — 
the  valley  of  apples  and  strawberries — is  reached. 
Here  the  tourist  may,  if  it  be  in  April,  inhale  the 
sweet  perfume  of  the  apple  blossom,  or,  if  it  be 
in  October,  the  breath  of  the  apple  itself  mingled 
with  that  of  the  strawberry. 

If  he  wish,  in  returning,  for  a  variety  of  scenery 
he  may  go  by  the  San  Andreas  road,  nearer  the 
coast,  which  enters  the  main  road  near  Aptos. 

Nor  are  these  all  the  drives  about  Santa  Cruz 
worthy  of  mention.  They  are  too  numerous  to  de- 
scribe.  The  Empire  grade,  to  Bonny  Doon,  is  as 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        265 

grand  a  ride  as  any,  or  through  the  De  Laveaga 
park  and  down  the  famous  cork-screw  road  into 
Blackburn  Gulch.  Best  of  all,  perhaps,  is  the  trip 
to  the  top  of  Loma  Prieta  mountain  via  the  Soquel 
canyon,  where  the  sightseer  can  look  down  upon 
the  entire  county  and  the  broad  Pacific,  as  well 
as  into  the  beautiful  Santa  Clara  valley. 

Is  it  any  wonder,  then,  considering  all  these 
beautiful  attractions,  if  we  who  were  born  here 
and  know  of  all  these  marvelous  environs,  should 
ask  why  more  people  do  not  come  here  to  make 
this  city  their  home — here  in  the  West,  where  they 
may  live  out  of  doors  nearly  every  day  of  the  year, 
among  these  beautiful  things  God  has  given  us — 
and  be  happy  and  healthy?  Is  it  because  they  do 
not  know  of  it? 


266  BILL'S  MISTAKE 


AFTERWARD. 

There  is  one  other  incident  which  belongs  to 
this  story  to  make  it  complete — "The  Lovers."  It 
was  not,  however,  until  six  years  later.  ^ 

And,  after  all,  Bill  did  not  make  any  mistake. 
That  night  when  he  thought  he  had  killed  Tom, 
he  did  kill  him.  The  little,  old,  worthless  Tom 
did  die  that  night;  but  in  his  place  a  new  Tom 
arose — a  Tom  that  meant  to  work  as  well  as  play. 
And  it  was  a  good  thing,  too,  that  Bill  went  away, 
just  as  he  did,  for  if  he  did  not  Tom  might  never 
have  got  to  "thinkin'  things  over." 

The  result  was,  that  six  years  later  Tom  was 
running  his  own  bank,  as  good  as  any  one  could 
have  done.  One  of  the  older  employees  said  one 
day:  "He's  the  smartest  young  man  I  ever  saw. 
I  used  to  think  his  father  was  smart,  but  he  wasn't 
in  it  'long  side  of  Tom.  I  used  to  think  that  Tom 
would  inherit  his  father's  awful  temper,  but  he 
doesn't  seem  to.  Sometimes  he  gets  a  little  mad, 
but  it  passes  away  almost  as  quickly  as  it  comes." 

And  Bill,  too,  was  in  the  bank,  helping  Tom  to 
run  it.  One  morning  Tom  walked  over  to  whert 
Bill  sat,  busy  at  his  desk  with  his  books,  and  said: 

"Bill,  I'm  goin'  to  get  married." 

"Who  to,  Tom?" 


STORY  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  REDWOODS        267 

"Remember  Jessie?" 

"Jessie!    Why,  Tom!    Have  you  asked  her  yet?" 

"No,  but  I'm  goin'  to.     What's  the  matter?" 

"Why,  Tom!  Jessie's  as  good  as  engaged  to 
me!" 

"Is  she?  Well,  why  didn't  you  say  so?  You 
always  said  that  you  were  never  going  to  marry." 

"I  didn't  really  mean  it.  I  was  waiting  till  I 
had  more  money. 

Then  for  a  moment  there  was  silence.  For  the 
second  time  in  his  life,  Tom  was  knocked  speech 
less. 

"I  suppose,"  Bill  began  solemnly,  as  he  made 
a  pretense  of  marking  in  his  books,  "it  would  be 
better  for  Jessie  if  you  marry  her;  you  can  do 
so  much  more  for  her  than  I." 

"Well,  let's  toss.  I  always  like  to  settle  things 
peacefully.  That's  the  best  way  to  settle  it." 

"I  hate  to  toss  for  a  girl,  Tom." 

"I'll  do  it."  With  that  Tom  took  a  coin  from 
his  pocket  and  threw  it  toward  the  ceiling.  "Heads 
or  tails,  Bill?"  he  asked  as  he  threw  the  coin. 

"Heads." 

The  coin  came  down  to  the  floor.  For  a  moment 
both  young  men  looked  at  it  in  silence.  Tom  spoke 
first: 

"I'm  sorry,  Bill — anyway  you  shall  have  your 
raise  of  pay." 

Then  Tom  went  away  and  Bill  was  left  alone 
for  a  few  days.  But  why  should  Bill  care?  He 
had  always  loved  Tom,  It  was  best  for  Jessie, 


268  BILL'S   MISTAKE 

too;  and  what  was  best  for  her  was  best  for  Bill. 
Besides,  how  could  a  plain,  ordinary  man  like  Bill 
expect  a  girl  to  marry  him  when  there  was  a 
handsome  young  banker  in  the  field? 

In  a  few  days  Tom  came  back.  He  entered  the 
office  and  walked  up  to  Bill's  desk,  and,  leaning 
over  his  shoulder,  softly  said: 

"I'm  back  again,  Bill." 

"Back  again?"  Bill  spoke  sadly,  without  turn 
ing. 

"Bill,  I  suppose  I  may  as  well  tell  you  first  as 
last." 

"Yes,  Tom,  tell  me  all  about  it."  While  speak 
ing  he  scratched  with  his  pen. 

"Bill."     Then  Tom  paused. 

"Yes,  Tom." 

"It's  not  me  she  wants;  it's  you.  I'm  glad, 
though;  it's  as  it  should  be.  You  knew  her  first. 
I  got  to  thinkin'  things  over,  and  I  went  fishin' 
instead.  Fishin 's  good  now."  Here  Tom's  voice 
began  to  quiver.  In  a  moment  he  controlled  him 
self,  and  continued:  "Besides  I  know  another  girl 
that  I  think  will  suit  me  better.  You've  done  a 
great  deal  for  me  —  more  than  YOU  can  ever 
know  — Bill." 


•        KOI  lOW^l^    ^  „]       4- 

days  prior  to  due  date. 

"D^ASSWED  BELOW 


12,00001/95) 


>'b  32201 


I 


46457,2    ,.  <.; 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


